Umji rubbed at her eyes distractedly, leaning back in her chair as she tried to relax her strained senses. A throbbing headache gathered at her temples, and she closed her eyes, tilting her head up to face the ceiling.

The glut of information she had to sort through from Hayoung’s files was part of the reason, but most of it had come from trying to convince Sowon not to run off to confront Bogeun immediately. She hadn’t even realized what the Spartan commander had to do with this whole business, only suspecting that someone had been mining Sowon’s data somehow for this mysterious Project ARIA.

Had Umji been any less familiar with Sowon’s physical stats, she might have missed the link entirely. There had been a lot of information to sort through, and without understanding what the reports and correspondence were referring to, it was slow going. Fortunately, Umji was very good at multitasking, and this was exactly what she was made for. 

Frankly, after her disastrous foray into field operations, Umji suddenly realized how comforting it was to remain in her usual role as tech guru and data analyst. Not only did it insulate her from the bloody realities of field work, she was doing something not everyone could manage, and at a much faster rate as well. 

She still had nightmares of Yuju falling down, choking on her own blood. The disadvantage of having a prodigious memory made itself known in these dreams, every detail being reenacted with shocking clarity, suffocating in its reality. She often woke up in cold sweat, only to lie back down carefully because Sowon was still sitting by her, dozing in her seat yes, but still holding her hand and watching over her even then. 

Sowon cared very deeply for her, and was the only mother she recognized and remembered having. Umji knew the woman was worried for her, and tried to hide her continuing unease, but the fact that Sowon still remained by her side every night spoke volumes about how well she was pulling that off. Not that Umji minded, of course. She missed having the comforting presence of her mom after all this time.

The fact that Sowon was also a victim in this entire business chilled Umji to the bone. It called up an old, almost forgotten memory of the first time she learned how to read the data flows, which saw her promptly using it on everything and anything around her that could reasonably transmit data, from an old but still functional radio, to the wireless LEDs that plastered the streets outside. 

Sowon had also been a target for her at the time, when she was still new and in need of practice. A good part of the woman was fully cybernetic, and it was a fascinating experience for a young Umji to try and decipher how everything worked with her newly awakened technomancer senses. This was only a couple of years after Sowon had rescued her, when she was still little, and terrified of the changed world around her. 

She hadn’t known how to shut things off and filter them out at that stage, and the sensory overload had been overwhelming in a world governed by data. Sowon had to move her out of the city and keep her mildly sedated until she learned how to cope, and it wasn’t like it was something she could legitimately ask for help with. She had to figure out every step on her own. And even after she managed to make sense of the changes in her, it had taken a few more years before she could competently read and surf the data waves, and even longer before she could manipulate them as she wished. 

The first thing she had noticed back then, of course, had been how data flows were being emitted by Sowon, as if transmitting a distant signal to unknown sources. Young Umji didn’t quite understand it back then, but she did try to cut it off at some point later, though it slipped her mind to inform Sowon of the fact at the time. 

On hindsight, she should have traced the signal. As she was now, she would have little trouble doing so, but back then, even recognizing that there was a signal had been a huge achievement. Had she mentioned something to Sowon back then though, maybe this betrayal wouldn’t have gone on as long as it had? Umji couldn’t know for sure. 

Umji managed to stop Sowon from charging off right away by giving the excuse that she needed to scan her for any existing bugs or transmissions still hidden in her cybernetic implants. Most of it, the later upgrades installed by Dr Park especially, were completely standard for their function, which was a minor relief. 

It was the cyber eye that was the problem. The same eye that Sowon had first installed, or more accurately, had been installed in her without her explicit consent, all while she was out cold after losing an eye in her first fight since exiting the underground shelter Bogeun had been keeping her in. Sowon had kept the eye for sentimental purposes, and after realizing that cyberware dampened her link to magic, had added even more to augment her combat capabilities for her budding shadowrunner career.

How much of the whole scenario had been staged though? It made little sense that she would be attacked just a day or two after escaping the facility, and that there had conveniently been a doctor who would save her and give her a new eye just out of the goodness of his own heart. Sowon couldn’t believe she had been so gullible at the time. She should have realized something was suspicious about the whole setup, but she had just been pathetically grateful to be alive and not otherwise disabled at the time.

Sowon had to explain to Umji why she knew it had to be Bogeun behind it all. Just a couple months ago, before everything had gone straight down to hell, when they were still six and not a splintered mess of broken relationships, Sowon had taken them out for a night at the club. She had seen her old doctor, the one who had saved her life and given her the eye she still kept. That alone shouldn’t have been shocking, except for the fact that she had also seen him meet up with someone she thought she knew. One of Bogeun’s trusted men, with whom she had met while they were preparing for the raid on the imugi’s lair. 

She had been suspicious, though a part of her wished to brush it off as mere coincidence. Paranoia though, led her to dig a little deeper, and Umji had been somewhat involved with that part at least. The investigation had taken a while, but it turned out that the good doctor was clearly in the employ of the Spartans, and it spoke volumes about her current predicament.

Sowon hadn’t minded it at the time. The awareness that Bogeun had someone keep an eye on her, the possibility that he had manipulated her into walking the path of a shadowrunner and thereby leading to her eventual showdown with the imugi; all that was excusable because it had eventually led her to reunite with her reincarnated team in this lifetime. And they even managed to get rid of the imugi, which was a common goal between them. Sowon had been quite prepared to let it slide. Let old debts lie in the dust. She was tired of the cycle of vengeance, and only wanted to lead a peaceful life with her favorite girls.

But this, this new information regarding Project ARIA, and Bogeun’s ongoing cooperation with Tristar, it left Sowon cold on the inside. Umji could see her mother figure visibly age a few years at the shocking realization, the blow of betrayal heavy on her. To know that an old friend had knowingly manipulated her against a common enemy was one thing, knowing that the same friend had also sold her out to a corporation of questionable ethics was quite something else.

And that was not to mention what went on while Sowon had been out cold in a magical coma for the better part of thirty years. The implications were chilling, even if they had no idea what the data was being harvested for. Thirty years was a very long time, and Sowon shuddered to think about what else had been done to her while she lay asleep and vulnerable during that period. 

The only meager comfort in all this was Umji pointing out that the comms suggested that Tristar never had direct access to Sowon, who was most likely the Subject Zero mentioned in the message. It wasn’t much, but it was something. It didn’t particularly leave Sowon in any mood to thank Bogeun for this minor consideration though. She had expected better of him. 

Fifty years was enough to change a man beyond recognition. Sowon couldn’t be certain how early this Project ARIA started, though Umji promised to continue sieving through the available data to piece together a proper picture. They still had very little idea what Project ARIA was for, or the extent of Spartan collaboration with Tristar. 

What purpose would the two have in common? Money? Perhaps, since running a mercenary company was hardly a cheap endeavour, and Bogeun had needed the financial support to keep his vendetta going until the Spartans were financially independent via stable contracts and other work. Sowon thought she could almost understand, almost, if the product in question hadn’t been her. 

But why her? And what was Tristar trying to do? The communications logged within Hayoung’s files were cryptic enough with their own technical jargon that even the streetwise Umji with her mastery of obscure lingo from the Wild West of the Matrix couldn’t quite decipher them. It would take time and effort, but Umji’s best guess at this point was that it had something to do with some kind of magical research.

This didn’t come as a surprise to Umji. She had spent more than ten years with Sowon, and knew firsthand that Sowon just didn’t age at all. That fact alone would make any scientist eager to get their hands on her for research purposes. Eternal youth, and with it, eternal life, was the holy grail of biomedical science. Sowon was extremely valuable in that sense, though she certainly didn’t think that of herself. 

It was also perhaps fortunate that modern advances allowed people to slow external signs of aging enough to make Sowon’s lack of physical deterioration less shocking in the two decades she had been active in the shadows. Most people didn’t normally leap to the conclusion that someone could be functionally immortal, preferring to find more plausible excuses like revitalizing formulas, or in the case of Umji’s favorite rumor, that Sowon was more robot than human at this point. She may even have added fuel to that particular fire at some point, to further confuse anyone who might be suspicious of Sowon’s unaging appearance.

Hiding in plain sight as a cybernetic warrior may have been the best disguise Sowon had unintentionally come up with. It didn’t draw attention amidst all the other cyborgs out there, leaving her free to move and act as she wished. 

But that was clearly no longer going to be enough. Tristar had obviously grown suspicious of her, judging by how they had sent people to steal her medical records. They might not have direct access to their Subject Zero, but they were no fools. It was hardly a secret that the Immortal had been working with the Spartans to take down Mireu, and everyone was well aware of the end result. One dead dragon, and a suspiciously non-aging leader of the runner team responsible for it. Of course it would have drawn attention.

Obfuscation worked only when there was no direct scrutiny on the details of the case. Yerin hadn’t been the only one exposed after the raid on the imugi. Sowon had also been put under the microscope, and clearly it had been enough to spur further attempts for confirmation. 

Regardless of whether Bogeun was involved in this, he was still ultimately responsible for the whole situation. Umji kneaded at her forehead wearily, knowing that she could not stop Sowon from confronting the man directly. The least she could do was to make sure her mom could make it there safely, and come back home after it was over. 

I need to at least know why, that was what Sowon said. Umji agreed, and only asked for time to make the necessary preparations. She was grateful that Sowon still listened to her at all. Her mom had been very angry, and justifiably so. As a supportive child, Umji wanted to help. It was a good thing she never removed the backdoor she installed in the Spartan communication network the last time they had been working together. It would come in useful now.

Quietly, Umji also sent a message to SinB, wanting someone who could at least watch Sowon’s back to be there in case anything went wrong. SinB didn’t reply, but Umji knew her message had gone through and been read. She trusted her gut. SinB would never let Sowon walk alone into danger, despite everything. Umji knew Sowon had been moping ever since SinB walked away from her, and wanted to do something to help. It had been her who shot Yuju, and it didn’t seem fair to let her mom bear the fallout for the whole situation. This was a small thing she could do, in lieu of actually admitting her involvement in the shooting. 

Umji wanted to be brave enough to admit it, but a part of her still hesitated. She didn’t know how to deal with their reactions if they knew, and it was just so much easier to hide under Sowon’s protection as she always had. But she knew she couldn’t lie about it forever. It wasn’t right to let Sowon take the blame, even if the leader had been the one to plan it. 

I pulled the trigger. It was me. Don’t be mad at her.

The words were there, but she couldn’t bring herself to send them out. Umji sighed, burying herself back into the comforting flows of the wider network. Guilt ran through her like the electrifying flows of data she manipulated, and some days it was even hard to breathe under the weight of it all. There was no escape from the self recrimination, only the endless replay of metal tearing into vulnerable flesh, blood fountaining like a budding blossom, a shockingly vivid red that wouldn’t leave her. 

Not for the first time, Umji gagged soundlessly, dry heaving as she reached for water to calm her churning stomach. Her hands were shaking, but it was a good thing she didn’t need them for her work. Her calm though, the mental focus she did require, but experience substituted for a million flaws in her current substandard condition. She just had to adapt, and get over it.

She had too many things to do without her trauma getting in the way. She needed to focus. Her mom needed her. She couldn’t afford to be paralyzed by her own guilt.

She needed to apologize to Yuju, if she had the chance to do so. Please be okay. Please don’t die. I never wanted to hurt you. I’m sorry it turned out like this.

Umji patted herself on her cheeks, pulling herself together just enough for the job ahead. If she was crying, it didn’t affect what she had to do. At least Sowon wasn’t here to see it.

I can do this. I can be strong too. I won’t be a burden.

The technomancer was back in business. Whether Umji herself was back online though, that could be left for further discussion. Only the technomancer was needed right now.

I will keep them safe, the only way I can.

The trees were white with the icy touch of winter frost, lending an austere air to the black and white marble of the graveyard. Overhead, a crow blackened the sky with its fleeting passage, the cawing cry oddly appropriate for the setting.

Heavy steps crunched on rocky gravel, crushing ragged weeds that managed to squeeze its way through to the ill tended path. A single gesture halts the entourage at the gate, and a single set of steps continues on alone, into the older, less visited part of the massive cemetery.

It was a lonely pilgrimage, but one that the man had taken upon himself to revisit every few months, the routine almost like second nature to him. Even the attempted assassination attempts centered around the predictability of his visits had not deterred him, the only concession to that eventuality being his increased , but he was no frail target even on his own. He had earned his reputation honestly over the years.

This was not his first stop, but he always saved it for last. He had spent the early morning at the family grave, sharing a quiet moment with the other deceased of his immediate family, but only he knew that the grave of his youngest sister was empty. He had respected her last wishes and buried her with her unit, should she be killed in action, as she had eventually.

So many dead. And yet he still lived, the blood of the brave and bold on his hands as he sought to end the karmic cycle that hung around his neck like a noose. He could not, and would not, forget how both his sisters had perished. The source of all his pain was a living myth, and with all the tenacity of humankind, he had sought to kill a legend. 

And he had done it. Not him personally, which was unfortunate, but he had set in action the turning gears that led to the eventual execution of his mortal enemy. The imugi was dead, and he was free of the chains of vengeance after more than fifty years. Free, and he had no idea what to do with it.

Kim Bogeun was the last of his family still alive in this brave new world, and following the death of the imugi, more than joy or satisfaction from a long-held goal finally achieved, all he was left with had been emptiness. He had spent more than half his life in pursuit of vengeance for the dead, but when that had been reached, he no longer knew what purpose he held in this world.

The last six months had passed in a blur. He had learned patience in the last few decades, finding different angles to tackle the problem of the imugi as he managed the growing power of the Spartans, forging a new path where there had been none before. He had done a great deal, left a not insignificant mark in the recent history of Korea, though he could not know how those who came after him would judge what he had done.

Would he be labeled an anti-government rebel and traitor for his role in splitting the military following the rise of the imugi? Or perhaps an even-handed visionary in this new world of corporate strongholds and charismatic warlords? He could not know, and did not blame those who came after for their assumptions. They did not know the whole truth, had not lived his life.

They would never know what it meant to lose your entire family to a monster out of legend, and watch the seductive charm of that same monster corrupt the upper echelons of the military chain of command, and even sink its talons deep into the bureaucratic sector. Bogeun had been as much forced into rebellion as his own desire for vengeance had driven him. He had been selfish in his quest, but he had also done his best in keeping his honor. 

Sometimes you just couldn’t have both. There was always sacrifice for the greater purpose. Bogeun couldn’t even remember all the things he had done over the years, but he had always known what he sought: the death of the imugi. And he had done it, to hell with the costs.

He slowed as he approached an almost forgotten corner of the graveyard, partially isolated from the general area by the ring of trees and some ways off the beaten path. He had arranged it that way from the start, of course. It was the only thing he could do for his youngest sister, and the unit who had died with her. 

Yewon had loved them all, a fact that almost made the older Kim siblings jealous of their baby sister’s closeness to her assigned unit. But even Bogeun had to admit that those girls had been exceptional. They had accepted Yewon with open arms, despite her being more or less airdropped in by high command at the last minute. Not all tight-knit squads could accept new additions with the same alacrity as those girls had. It was something to be grateful for, even now. They had kept Yewon safe through most of the war, and it was hardly their fault when the last mission had gone wrong. No mortal man could face a dragon unknowing and unprepared. They had just been unlucky enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

The only splashes of color in that grove was a vivid bouquet of fresh zinnia flowers laid out at each headstone, save one. Bogeun stopped in his tracks, frowning as he lowered the lilies he had brought. His body shifted to alertness, even as eyes undimmed by age scanned the perimeter. He might be old, but he still kept himself in top condition. Maybe not enough to overcome any competent assailant outright, but definitely enough to hold out until his came to reinforce him. Bogeun was no fool, and he had enemies as a major power player on the Korean peninsula. Caution was the better part of valor, especially when one intended to stay alive long enough to achieve their goals.

A familiar silhouette rose from behind the furthest headstone without any flowers, and Bogeun’s lips tightened as he recognized the ashy blonde hair of one Kim Sojung, now going as Sowon in the new world. 

“Took you long enough.” Sowon was in her trademark longcoat, and in a change from her usual aesthetic, had ditched the eyepatch covering her robotic eye. It glowed an unearthly red in the shadows of the grove, lending an inhuman cast to the tall mercenary leaning casually against her own headstone.

“You could have called to arrange for a meeting.” Bogeun was not one so easily rattled by the implication that Sowon had been waiting for him. There was no longer the easy trust of old war comrades between them, and even back then, their closest link had been Yewon, who spoke often and well of her squad leader Sojung. 

This no longer held true in present time, and Bogeun was once again struck by a complicated mix of feelings as he stared at the still youthful Sowon, who had not aged a day since he had found her trapped underneath a half ton of debris and still alive despite the fact. Her continued existence was a miracle, and it wouldn’t be the first time Bogeun wondered how and why she alone had survived the catastrophe where everyone else had died. Why not Yewon? Why did my sister have to die?

“I think this is as good a place as any.” Sowon straightened, patting the headstone marking her own empty grave with a quiet irony. There was a subtle hostility in her general air, not obvious to the untrained eye perhaps, but Bogeun was a soldier and sensitive to potential threats. He looked at the vaguely unfriendly expression on Sowon’s face, and sighed.

“You know then.”

Sowon touched a hand to her cyber eye, her jaw tightening as the muscles in her arm and shoulder bunched together and were relaxed with an effort. Her gaze was somewhere between accusation and genuine uncomprehension.

“Why?” Why would you do this? How could you do this?

Bogeun closed his eyes briefly, gathering his thoughts. It had not started like this. After rescuing Sowon from the ruins at Gyeongju, he had brought her to Jiwon, his other sister. By then, the imugi’s influence was slowly making itself known in high command, and he didn’t want to risk bringing her to any official hospital for care. There were too many unusual mysteries surrounding Sowon’s miraculous survival, and the only person Bogeun trusted to investigate was his own kin. 

The initial results of that investigation had been staggering in what it revealed. Magic was little understood at that stage of the Awakening, but there was no mistaking how something was changing Sowon from within, bit by bit. That same force preserved Sowon’s life, kept her untouched and unchanged by the years, even while subtle shifts were occurring within, unexplained by simple biology. 

Jiwon had been completely absorbed by the research, her way of drowning her own grief from the loss of their baby sister. While Bogeun had been busy with external affairs, he had not always kept a very close eye on the exact details of the research, trusting that Jiwon knew what she was doing.

That didn’t last very long, however. Forces under the imugi’s influence attacked Jiwon’s lab, and though Bogeun had managed to repel it the first time, it wouldn’t be the last time it occurred. It had been a constant battle trying to keep his last remaining sister safe and alive to do what she wanted, all while trying to establish his own forces to continue the struggle. 

Even moving the lab hadn’t helped. The imugi’s people seemed to be able to zero in on the location every time, and though Bogeun had swept for spies within his own forces, it was apparent that none had given away the location. It wasn’t until that final, fateful attack where Jiwon, in an attempt to test a theory, had removed the dragon orb from Sowon to see if the connection between the two would last even when separated. The imugi’s forces had invaded during that time, and in splitting his forces to guard both his sister and Sowon’s vulnerable body, Bogeun had been too late to stop Jiwon from being gunned down by the imugi’s troops, still holding the glowing red orb that reflected the blood pooling around her.

He had slaughtered the invaders to the last man, but he couldn’t save his sister. With her dying breath, she had handed the orb to him and told him to keep it safe, because the potential that lay within it could be the key to bringing down the imugi. Bogeun had taken the orb, and sworn over his sister’s body that the imugi would pay. 

The days following that were a frenzied blur to his grieving mind. Jiwon had kept detailed notes regarding her research, and while he could get a general gist from the summaries she made for his benefit, the technical details were way beyond him. He needed revenge, but he also needed help. There was no way he could kill the imugi alone, not after seeing how one of his units had been torn apart in a direct confrontation with the imugi in the forests of Gyeongju, and that was when the monster hadn’t even incarnated properly in its own flesh. 

Magic was only starting to emerge as a force to be reckoned with in those years, and the social chaos that arose from that, while differing from region to region, was a worldwide phenomenon. As with any new thing, people were starting to study it, the better to either understand or extinguish it. Bogeun needed someone who could continue Jiwon’s work, to turn her vision of weaponizing this new force into a reality.

“You were my only hope in finding a way to beat the imugi.” Bogeun met Sowon’s gaze evenly. There was no lie in that. Jiwon’s research had been heavily based on the changes to Sowon’s body, and had she lived, she might have gotten further. As it was, he needed a way to face the imugi without being vulnerable to its powers. The mystery surrounding Sowon was his best bet.

“You sold me to Tristar.” Sowon growled, clenching her fists. Bogeun dipped his chin briefly, eyes clouding over in memory.

“I never handed you over to them, not directly. I just needed someone who could interpret Jiwon’s notes on you, after she died.” Bogeun looked grim. 

“You don’t understand what it was like. How many of my brothers-in-arms died fighting that damn serpent...we needed a way to stand against it. What else to do but to fight magic with magic?” Bogeun hit a nearby tree with his fist, trying to get his emotions under control. Taking a deep breath, he calmed himself with an effort before continuing.

“When Jiwon said that maybe we could convert others to be magically capable, just as what was happening with you, that was the start…”

Sowon looked startled by that revelation. “You mean…”

Bogeun nodded. “She spent almost five years studying you and that orb. She was always the smart one,” he added with a tired smile. That smile turned into a frown as he sighed.

“But the imugi wanted that orb, and she died trying to protect the damn thing. We were only just figuring out how to dampen its power signature, but we were too late.”

Sowon’s forehead was knitted together in thought. “So you thought that working together with Tristar was a good idea?”

“I won’t make any excuses for what I’ve done.” Bogeun looked at her, his expression set with no remorse. “I did what I had to do to take down the imugi. I’m sorry I had to make use of you, but it was the only way I had.”

“So that was Project ARIA? Trying to give magic to people?” Sowon kneaded at her temples. “You people tried to turn it into a science?”

Bogeun looked briefly surprised by her comment, but settled down quickly. Project ARIA was not known to most people, except for the direct collaborators on the project itself, and most of the Tristar rank and file hadn’t even heard of the term. But he remembered Sowon’s resources, and understood that she would not have come to confront him had she not grasped hold of certain knowledge. 

It was almost a relief to have it all come to light. Bogeun had been holding too many secrets close to his chest, and never had the chance to discuss his motivations. He had few friends, and none who could serve as confidant. He had allies and subordinates, but no one close to his heart. Sometimes it felt like his heart had died with the death of his last family member. There was no one left with which he could speak to as an equal, and truth be told, he was lonely.

“If Jiwon’s vision could be turned into reality, we could mass produce our own mage-warriors, instead of trying to recruit wild Awakened talents. It’s really too unreliable that way, even though I always did extend a branch out to those. Can’t have too many mages.” Bogeun explained with a noncommittal shrug. If he was being callous, it was with good reason.

He had only been distantly involved with what Tristar did with the information he provided, only demanding results and ignoring the human cost of that research. Tristar pushed often enough for direct access to Sowon, but the last vestiges of his honor had prevailed through to resist the temptation for faster progress. He had always known what the megacorp was doing in order to advance their research, but it was easier to ignore when he didn’t know the subjects involved. He couldn’t in good conscience hand over an old friend to the rapacious wolves that belonged to the research arm of Tristar, even for the sake of his vengeance. Yewon would never have forgiven him for that.

“That’s insane…” Sowon whispered, reeling slightly from Bogeun’s admission. “It would change everything if you managed it…have you ever thought of the consequences?”

“My only goal was to take down the imugi. I didn’t really care what happened after that.” Bogeun admitted, stepping closer to rest one hand on Yewon’s headstone. “But when you woke up, it changed everything.”

“You set me up,” Sowon shot back, tapping at her cyber eye. Bogeun inclined his head.

“We didn’t think you would wake up. You had been sleeping for thirty years, who could expect it?” Bogeun sighed.

“I needed to keep an eye on you, to keep you safe. My people were always watching, in case you needed help.”

“You took my eye!” Sowon growled, her anger rising. “Spied on me for years, did you never think of approaching me directly at all? Was keeping me in the dark necessary? Or did you just want to manipulate me into doing what you wanted, like a good little puppet? Tell me, Bogeun, what have you become in all these years?”

Bogeun’s lips thinned into a straight line as he controlled his own temper with some effort. “The loss of your eye was an accident. I would have preferred not to mess with your body as it was, but my control over the Spartans is not as absolute as you might think.” He scowled.

“They ignored my orders and installed a tracker in you. When I found out, the operation was already over and done with. I can’t reverse what’s already done, Sojung. But the project had to continue anyway, and that data was valuable. You changed everything by waking up. We’ve been stuck for years until then.”

“So you continued selling me out for the sake of your revenge.” Sowon said slowly, her knuckles turning white underneath her gloves as her fingers dug new grooves into the lining. “Was it worth it, Bogeun? Selling your soul to the devil like this.”

“Worth it or not, the imugi is dead. I did what I set out to do.” Bogeun sounded tired, his age apparent in the white hair and wrinkles lining his face. He stared back at her, exhausted.

“You wanted to kill the imugi too, Sojung. Does it really matter how we got there as long as it’s done?”

“We used to be friends, Bogeun. Friends don’t sell each other out like this.” Sowon spat, stepping within striking distance of him, glaring him down. 

“And in the end, I killed the imugi. Not you, or your crazy project with Tristar. It was me and my team. Everything you did was for nothing.”

A cold smile twisted Bogeun’s lips at Sowon’s assertion, making an unwanted chill run down the tall mercenary’s spine.

“Are you so sure?”

Sowon narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Your team,” Bogeun said patiently, a low amusement in his tone. “Jung Yerin. I knew her. I trained her. She went through the project, even though she probably doesn’t remember it now. How do you think her glamour is as powerful as it is?”

“Yerin was one of your lab rats?” Sowon inhaled sharply, suddenly remembering the empty gaze the assassin had when they were facing each other down in that warehouse. A shiver ran through Sowon. If Yerin was a product of Project ARIA, what had the girl gone through exactly? 

Human experimentation was rarely kind, and even as successful as Yerin had turned out to be, Sowon knew how unstable Yerin’s power was. The glamour could never be turned off, a mask that shifted constantly based on the beholder’s perception of her. It was almost inhumane in how it isolated her, and Sowon couldn’t imagine not having anyone able to look at her without seeing her true face. 

But more importantly…

“You people succeeded in giving magic to mundanes?” Sowon caught the main point almost immediately. Bogeun sighed deeply.

“Alas, no. Yerin’s batch was a failure. We merely augmented their natural ability, but they already had that power to begin with. We just tweaked it.”

A failure. Sowon suddenly understood why Yerin and her old friends had been considered a disposable asset, as implied by Hayoung’s video previously. If they hadn’t met the standards set by Project ARIA’s tenets, it made perfect sense that they ended up being reused for daily operations, rather than being simply discarded as failures. Not worth the long term investment in the megacorp’s eyes, but too useful to be thrown away just like that. 

It was a uniquely cruel way to treat living human beings. Sowon’s blood ran cold as she thought of what awaited Yerin back in the hands of Tristar. Being treated as less than human, only useful as a tool...she wouldn’t wish that on anyone, and Yerin was a friend.  

“Mad...all of you have gone mad.” Sowon whispered, her heart sinking. Human experimentation in this context could not possibly be ethical, especially performed like this without consent and proper oversight. “I can’t believe you’ve gone this far.”

“Only possible because of you, Sojung.” Bogeun reminded her grimly, gripping the half dead lilies he had nearly crushed in his hands during the entire conversation. “ You are the reason we started this. Magic touched you and changed you. Why shouldn’t we be able to replicate it in others?”

“Don’t try and drag me into your own decisions, Bogeun. I didn’t choose any of this!” Sowon retorted, breathing heavily as her breath fogged the air before her. Gritting her teeth, she steeled herself as she came to a decision.

“I won’t have any part in your crazy schemes. This ends here, Bogeun. No more Subject Zero for you.”

Bogeun’s pupils dilated from surprise as Sowon reached violently into her own left eye, digging into the socket and ripping out the implanted eye in one swift motion, a pained grunt the only sound escaping her lips as blood poured out from the open wound. 

“I won’t kill you here, Bogeun. Not in front of my girls.” Sowon panted, turning white from the pain and blood loss, but still pushing herself to continue. Her grip around the robotic eye tightened, and she crushed the offending object without hesitation.

“I owe you my life and for keeping me safe for thirty years. But that’s all over now. From this day on, you have no friend in me.” Sowon staggered, reaching out to steady herself on the nearest headstone. Yewon’s grave.

“Cross me again, and Yewon’s brother or no, I will ing kill you. This I swear.”

Bogeun had gone pale, and stepped forward to try and steady the swaying Sowon, but was beaten to the punch by a blurring figure that slowed to a stop by Sowon’s side, propping her up before she fell over. 

“You idiot!” SinB screeched at the shaky Sowon. “Rip his eye out, not your own for ’s sake. What the , Sowon.”

Sowon smiled wanly. “You came.”

SinB muttered a few choice imprecatives under her breath, trying to resist the urge to slap the older woman silly. She glowered instead at Bogeun, who withdrew his hand awkwardly and stepped back. Sowon gripped SinB’s hand, preventing the impetuous gunslinger from drawing her weapon on the man.

“You heard me. Not here, not now.” 

SinB growled, but obeyed with minimal grumbling. Her attention was swiftly drawn to the still bleeding wound of what used to be Sowon’s left eye, and the gunslinger winced.

“Let’s get you out of here. God, if Umji hadn’t told me to come…”

Sowon grinned recklessly. “I’ll live.”

“Not if you don’t shut up right now I swear…” SinB quickly applied a medpatch to the open hole to staunch the bleeding, then shouldered the majority of the older’s weight onto herself as she prepared to take Sowon away.

“I can give you two a ride.” Bogeun offered quietly, but SinB only hissed at him in frustration.

“ off. I got my own ride. Now get lost before I shoot you.”

He moved aside. SinB shouldered past him aggressively, drawing a quiet chuckle from Sowon as they drew away.

“What?” SinB snapped, her patience worn to a razor edge. Sowon leaned her head against SinB’s, pressing the side of her face into the smaller girl’s hair. 

“Thank you for coming.” 

SinB huffed quietly, but her reply was almost gentle despite her grouchiness.

“I’m still mad, but I couldn’t leave you alone.” She hesitated, then blurted out. “I missed you.”

Sowon smiled wanly, closing her one eye.

“Me too.”

And that was the only thing they needed to say. Sowon didn’t need to explain herself, and SinB didn’t ask. It was enough to know they still cared for each other, despite everything.

Sowon couldn’t ask for better under the circumstances. She still had too much to answer for. 

In the end, was she so different from Bogeun? She had plotted to take down Yuju because of the threat she posed. That was as much of a betrayal as anything else, even if she had good intentions. She could not bring herself to judge the man, but she also could not forgive him, even though she understood the motivations that had led him to this.

She was luckier than him though. Bogeun had ended up on his own, with no friends and family left to him. For all her flaws, she still had her girls around her. Eunha may never forgive her, but she was willing to make amends where possible. It was the least she could do, after all this.

Her thoughts grew fogged as the dizziness from the blood loss set in, but she had the comforting scent of SinB in her nostrils, and that was enough. She was in safe hands. 

SinB tensed as she felt Sowon passing out on her, the sudden weight of the leader bearing down on her smaller form. The gunslinger turned her head to regard the deathly pale cast of her skin, and sighed.

She didn’t know what they were going to do from here, but she sure as hell was going to keep on trying to make things work. Eunha couldn’t stay mad forever, and Yuju was at least still alive. Things hadn’t gone too far. There was still some hope. 

And hope was all she had left under the circumstances. It would have to be enough. It has to be. 

She didn’t know what she would do if it didn’t work out.

A single finger traced the minute details of the wood carving, sensing by touch the care put into every cut. Despite it being an inanimate object, there was an odd warmth to the wood, as if it were living flesh despite the rough texture of the grain. 

The link between talisman and Yuju was still active, despite the shaman’s current condition. Eunha sighed, fingers closing around the carved puppy that rested on her palm. Yuju had imbued a part of herself into the talismans she distributed to the team, and even in her diminished state, the talisman still functioned as intended, as protective charms that could deflect minor hexes and alert the shaman if any of them were in danger for their lives. 

It was exactly like Yuju to take care of others in that quietly unassuming way. But the girl herself was currently sunk deep into her subconscious self, and despite Eunha’s best hopes, Yuju showed no sign of stirring from that sleep. Modern medicine could not explain her condition, only reflect the slowly recovering state of her body. It could not account for the mental state that led to what was increasingly looking like a self imposed coma.

Yuju was actually healing a lot faster than an average person, physically speaking. Dr Lee speculated it had to do with her magic, though Eunha knew well enough that it was probably due to the fact that she was still channeling mana into Yuju. She might not know how to heal Yuju directly, but she trusted that the shaman could repair herself given sufficient energy. 

Her faith in Yuju on that front was hardly misplaced. She had seen Yuju perform miracles on worse wounds at her peak. The shaman had always demonstrated an intimate understanding of how to put a person back together, despite never having been medically trained the way Yerin had been in first aid. It was one of her many talents, and Eunha took joy in discovering every surprise Yuju had up her sleeve. 

But her favorite girl was currently refusing to wake up, and even though she had been calling out to Yuju on the astral plane day and night, it had been like tossing a pebble into the sea. It was frustrating, and Eunha was starting to consider more extreme measures.

Her earlier, somewhat half baked plan that she had shared with SinB regarding using the talisman to force a connection with Yuju’s soul was at least partially inspired by what had occurred during the fight with the imugi. Overloading the talisman with magic to shatter it had driven a partial wedge into the solid mental shields the shaman had around herself, and even though it was only for just a moment, it had been all the imugi needed to penetrate Yuju’s mind back then. Eunha had seen it happen in real time, and while she was still mad at herself for letting the imugi take advantage of the moment, she had definitely taken the moment as a learning experience.

During her sharing sessions with Yuju, where the shaman taught her how better to control the fire that lived within her, they had established brief soul links to better communicate and demonstrate what needed to be done. Such links were not lightly done, and only from a place of trust. In a sense, it was like being invited into each other’s minds, but only the most superficial layer meant for temporary guests. 

Even so, Eunha cherished those moments. There was no better way to feel the shape of someone’s soul than to touch it directly, and it was how Eunha came to be so attached to Yuju so quickly. There was no disguising the warm patience the shaman demonstrated from inside out, nor the gentle affection that guided her actions. It was on this basis Eunha chose to trust in the kind of person she believed Yuju to be, even when the odds were stacked against her. 

If Yuju really killed anyone, there would be a good reason to drive a gentle person like her to such extremes. Eunha was willing to give the girl the benefit of the doubt. Love might be the main reason for her blind faith, but she had no regrets.

Regardless, Eunha could not simply sit by and watch Yuju retreat into herself. If Yuju could not be brave on her own, then she would simply have to break through and support her in her time of need. 

I will never let go of your hand. Eunha promised quietly, threading her fingers through Yuju’s limp ones and gripping them tightly. She wanted to proceed immediately, but she was also aware that SinB had left in a hurry earlier. Eunha didn’t want to try something potentially risky without her best friend watching her back. She couldn’t afford to be interrupted in the middle of a soul link, and the only person she trusted to guard her while she was busy was SinB.

Wait for me, Yuju. I’ll help you, if you let me.

Eunha rested her head on Yuju’s shoulder, reluctant to even leave her side to rest. Her thoughts drifted to SinB, whom she knew was still in contact with Sowon. She couldn’t fault the gunslinger for that. Her own love for Yuju bordered on being unreasonable at times, and she could hardly be a hypocrite in this case. The only reason SinB would show such obvious anxiety probably had something to do with Sowon, and despite herself, Eunha hoped Sowon was alright.

She might be mad with the leader for her actions regarding Yuju, but Eunha had known Sowon over two lifetimes now. She couldn’t erase that even with her current fury for Yuju’s sake. There was a special bond they shared as the only two to remember what happened at Gyeongju. She understood where Sowon came from on this situation, but it was hard to override her own feelings in this case. 

SinB was in a difficult position, caught between loyalty to her and her feelings for Sowon. Eunha didn’t push her to choose, and she tried to be understanding. SinB deserved to be happy too, and Eunha was willing to give way a little for the sake of her best friend. 

Forgiving Sowon for what she had done was harder, and Eunha could make no promises on that. The tiny fire mage sighed, propping her chin up with one arm as she gazed into the sleeping Yuju’s face. It would be easier to forgive as long as Yuju pulled through this safely.

She must have dozed off a little somewhere along the way, but a sudden commotion jerked Eunha back into wakefulness, her subconscious sensing SinB’s somewhat agitated presence in the next room over. A second, also familiar presence was there, and Eunha frowned as she caught a whiff of blood through the crack at the door. 

Was Sowon injured? Eunha pursed her lips, wondering if she should investigate, but decided not to after a moment. She still wasn’t sure if she would overreact if she saw Sowon now. 

Serves her right. A dark, fleeting thought flashed through Eunha’s mind, and the mage had to wrestle that particular emotion away, not wanting to be consumed by her darker half. She still wasn’t ready to face the leader, not when Yuju was still stuck in this state. She was not as calm about this as she projected outwardly, but she knew that it would do no good to anyone if she lost her cool. 

Yuju still needed her. She couldn’t afford to lose her mind as long as that was the case.

Why does this have to be so hard? Eunha huffed in frustration, messing at her short hair, annoyed with herself. Things were so complicated now, and a part of her longed for the less complicated days when it was just SinB and her on the streets, watching each other’s backs and defending themselves against other people with maximum force. 

We all have to grow up some time. The fire mage sighed again. It was an unfortunate truth.

She didn’t know what awaited her at the end of the road. She could only make her choices with whatever knowledge she held, with no idea of the potential consequences for some of those choices. But as long as she remained true to her heart, she would have no regrets.

There was no going back to the past, and the future was yet to be known. Eunha had enough regrets from the past life, and she could no longer bring herself to deny her own desires in the present. She was not a saint, to be selfless for the sake of others. That was not her way.

Already, she had chosen her path. She would not regret the outcome, no matter what.

I will protect what is mine, with my own two hands.