K-pop hunters: off duty

      — You were absolutely amazing up there! — Bobby gushed, practically chattering at the girls, who eagerly gulped down cold water. Right now, it felt like heaven to them.       — We couldn’t have done it without you, — Rumi replied with a smile. She was on the verge of jumping for joy: their performance had been phenomenal. Their ranking climbed two spots, and now they were firmly in the top three bias positions of 2025.       Mira and Zoe were holding hands and bouncing around, chattering about the long-awaited rest ahead. No concerts for the foreseeable future meant one thing: time for the couch, chips, and ramen. But what they were really planning was something else entirely.       They had been planning a roadtrip for over a month — visiting cities, making stops, going on hikes, seeking adventures. There had always been a firm — and nearly immovable — «but.» Rumi had always refused their plans, insisting they needed to work more, that they had no time for frivolities. The girls had pleaded for her to come to the bathhouse with them but got only one answer: «Go ahead by yourselves, I’m too busy».       But now everything was different.       Two days before their trip (though Rumi still hadn’t caught on), they’d prepared lyrics for many songs, choreographed new dances, taken photos for posters, and launched fresh merch. So by Friday, after their final concert of the month, they had plenty of free time—meaning Rumi would have to join them (and if necessary, they’d beg).       After a refreshing shower on that summer night, the three girls sprawled on the sofas and chairs in their flat, where they’d lived together for five years. The TV flickered with world news, glimpses of dramas already on Mira’s watchlist in the next ads.       Zoe and Mira exchanged glances. It was time to reveal the plan and hold their breath for a positive response. Even demon-hunting girls felt nervous — they knew Rumi could get angry, and they might earn her wrath. Still, nothing ventured, nothing gained.       Zoe leaned over to Rumi, and with a nod from Mira, she began:       — We finally have some free time, — Zoe chirped, watching Rumi for any clue to her mood.       Rumi sat quietly, face wrapped in a hydrating mask, half-listening — she already guessed where this was heading. Zoe continued.       — We’ve written lyrics for five songs, choreographed around fifteen dances, taken poster shots, the new merch is out, — Zoe’s voice grew quieter, uncertainty creeping in like a tiger’s claws. She glanced at Mira again.       — We have no concerts or fan‑meets coming up, so we want to go on a road trip, — Mira added. She was the type to speak bluntly — no sugarcoating, even when the truth stung. Honesty was what the others and fans loved about her.       Silence fell. No one breathed. Fear of rejection — or worse — cloaked the room. Rumi looked at them with a gaze that said, — these are the dumbest ideas I’ve ever heard, — and sighed.       — I guess we can take a trip just once and relax.       — Wha-?       — AAA!       Mira and Zoe leapt from the sofas in unison, hugging and hopping as if on air. Their faces and movements radiated joy — pure joy.       Zoe dabbed tears from her face with her hoodie sleeve — the tears of happiness streaming after Rumi’s surprising words. Rumi blushed and hid her face in her hands; her nail polish was still wet.       If we’re brutally honest: Rumi had known the plan from the beginning (Bobby told her everything). She understood what motivated them most and pretended not to know, while the girls tried everything to win her over before the trip. Perhaps it was manipulative, but what could you do? They needed to work, and her friends needed rest. In a way, it worked out for both sides.       Bobby tried not to laugh as he watched Mira and Zoe triple their efforts just for Rumi’s approval. He often marveled at the strength of their friendship — it only deepened his affection for managing them. Though they had different personalities and appearances, they always stayed together, perfectly complementing each other.       They were just friends.       They were hunters—but only demons and their mentor knew it.

***

      — Hey, Mira, what’s taking so long? — came a shout from the kitchen.       — I’m coming! Hold on! — Mira grumbled as she wrestled with the suitcase it looked about to burst with something supernatural (and borderline illegal by ordinary standards, though not by demon-hunters’ standards).       — Are you packing the entire flat in there? — Rumi asked, braiding her hair and silently reciting a prayer. Even demons weren’t as scary as this trip.       — No… but what if we need it? — Mira said, wedging in a fourth pair of sneakers and a backup holy water bottle in the suitcase already straining at the seams. — Oh, and don’t forget that artifact in the kitchen cabinet from Kyoto. If that witch shows up again on the road, I’m going to bark.       — Good call! — Rumi dashed to the kitchen cabinet where their stash included chocolate‑flavored cookies, ramen packets, rice and… a demon’s foot.       Zoe had wanted to keep it as a trophy from their first battle but ended up hiding it near the rice. If other Koreans or rice lovers found out… they’d curse them. Rumi couldn’t even be mad they’d only think to hide a demon’s severed limb next to food because they were hunters.       Zoe sat in the car, singing loudly at the top of her lungs and dancing at the wheel. She’d finished packing (surprisingly, she was the first), relishing the summer morning and the anticipated adventures.       — Done!” Mira yelled, dragging the suitcase. It clanged so hard that a baby in the neighboring apartment woken and started crying.       — Honestly…” Rumi sighed, slinging her minimalist backpack which contained only the essentials: knives, a little hatchet, a grimoire, and lipstick. — Let’s go before someone decides to bring a cat along.       — A CAT?! — Zoe screamed. — Are we really taking a cat in the car?       — That was a joke, — the other two responded in unison.       — Big mistake! A cat would’ve made it so much more fun…       — Nope. — Rumi snapped her fingers the luggage shuttled into the trunk. — The road is calling. And if you don’t shut up, I’ll reverse my decision.       — Alright, alright! We’re off! — Mira jumped into the front seat.       — We’re on our way! — Three voices shouted, and the lavender‑scented, gasoline‑smelling minivan rolled toward adventure.       They didn’t yet know the trials that awaited them.

***

      The minivan, thumping with beats from the speakers, sped down the highway. Its dusty windows dimly reflected the summer sunset. On the dashboard lay a pack of gum discarded by Zoe and a small ceramic totem an amulet against travel misfortune, gifted by their mentor. Rumi had scoffed at it but still tapped it thrice when leaving the city limits.       — Officially, mission ‘Vacation’ has begun, — Mira declared, unfolding a map marked with circles and notes like «here they sell ramen» or «that café haunted by ghosts».       — I’d call it mission «rope us into another damn supernatural mess we’ll regret later» — muttered Rumi, opening her tablet at the schedule for the next two weeks: it was… empty. Almost unsettling.       — No supernatural mess, I swear, — Zoe said, crossing her fingers behind her back. — Well…maybe just a little, in passing.       Their first stop: an old roadside gas station somewhere between «nowhere» and «internet-dead zone.» The red 24/7 sign flickered ominously, as though warning, run, fools. Mira went straight to buy coffee; Zoe lingered at the snack stand; Rumi stayed in the car something about the place unsettled her.       A minute later, Mira returned, face full of doubt.       — Zoe says the cashier hasn’t blinked in five minutes.       — Maybe he has dry eye syndrome? — Rumi replied, uninterested.       — Or maybe, he’s a demon, sucking souls through his price tags on gum. He looked at me like that with his eyes on his forehead.       — We’re out of here. — Rumi slammed the door and stood up. «Now».       Zoe ran out clutching three bags of sweet corn chips and a bottle of water, shrieking:       — HE SAID HE’D BEEN WAITING FOR US SINCE 2018! For who? Why? I hadn’t even joined the group then!”       — Start the engine! — Rumi nearly demolished the station’s door. — No more corn stops!       Once again they were on the road. Their hearts pounded, but nobody complained. It was thrilling. Where else would you meet an immortal corn seller with eyes on his skull?       Mira scribbled it all in her notebook, maybe inspiration for a new song. Zoe posted a story with #roadtrip haunted‑snacks. Rumi, looking out the window, cracked her first real smile in ages—slightly, but sincerely.       After all, adventure isn't something you can outrun—especially when you're a hunter. Especially when you're not alone.       Their next stop came at Zoe’s insistence—she «felt a magical vibration» or, as Rumi put it, had too many energy drinks and hallucinated cues from the GPS. Either way, they turned off the highway and found a strange roadside café with the sign: «At Grandma Marym’s. Homemade Food. No curses since 2013».       — No curses? — Mira squinted suspiciously. — Does that mean before 2013 they served demons as dessert?       — Maybe they did levitation kimchi, — Rumi muttered but still stepped inside.       Inside smelled faintly burned and unsettling. Behind the counter stood an old woman in a hanbok—clearly someone who had survived six soul reincarnations and one ghost invasion.       — Hi Grandma, do you have a menu? — Zoe asked, bowing politely.       — Why would you need one if you already chose tteokbokki? — she replied. — They called you in.       — Uh…— Zoe shuddered, eyes fixated on the pot. — They really smell… like destiny.       — I think they’re trying to feed us cursed food again, — Mira whispered. — Last time, my tongue turned blue.       — One tteokbokki order and then we go, — Rumi said as she took a seat, partly to avoid offending the hostess.       Five minutes later:       — Two more servings and a bottle of soju! — Zoe yelled, eyes sparkling like a possessed chef’s.       — I need a monastery, — Mira rasped. — Or at least activated charcoal.       — Relax. Maybe it’s just excellent tteokbokki. Or we swore allegiance to the spirit of street food. Either way, I’m taking this sauce sample for lab tests, — Rumi said, pouring the leftover sauce into a plastic jar.       Two hours later, back in the minivan, the girls were silent. Only the road’s hum and quiet stomach growls filled the car.       — I feel my ancestors awakening inside me,” Zoe whispered, gazing out the window. — I think Grandma Marym unlocked my umami chakra.       — And I feel like my stomach wants to leave the group, — Mira moaned.       — Ladies… we brought back a jar of fermented sauce with an autograph. I think it’s whispering.— Rumi eyed the fridge under her seat suspiciously. — Okay… where to next?       — A hotel with suspiciously low rates and a human-sized plush bunny at the entrance! — Zoe proclaimed, scrolling the map.       — Then a village where goats reportedly dance at sunset, — Mira added, deadpan.       — Why did I agree to this road trip, — Rumi muttered into the void.       Meanwhile, the sauce in the trunk bubbled ominously.       The next stop was a «cozy hotel with personality». On arrival, it was clear the personality was—psychotic.       — Is this a horror movie motel? — Zoe whispered, eyeing the peeling sign and giant pink bunny at the entrance, dust‑covered like an ancient relic or a spirit.       — It’s not «cute»… it just survived an apocalypse, — Mira poked the bunny. — Or took a summoning blast.       — Let’s just spend the night and leave. No checking closets, mirrors, or haunted hallways,— Rumi muttered. — We’re on vacation.       At the reception, they were greeted by a woman in a leopard-print bathrobe, expression as if offering a discounted spiritual cleansing.       — We have a «family triple room» and a «room with special energy», — she said as if inviting them to taste a curse.       — Uh… family room, please, — Mira beat Zoe to it, who was already reaching for the «special energy» brochure.       The room was… serviceable. Mostly. The window wouldn’t close, the TV turned itself on to a show about witches, and one solitary black cloak hung in the wardrobe—big enough to swallow a house.       — Fine. I’ll sleep in the car, — Rumi muttered, but Mira had already spread out on the bed, clutching a pillow stamped «Survivors Return», Zoe seemed oddly exhilarated.       — I sense spirits! — she said, waving an incense stick. — One is definitely under the bed, maybe it wants hugs.       — I feel my common sense slipping away, — Rumi scowled and flopped down. — If I wake up with a plush bunny floating over me, I’m kicking both of you out.       Night passed… strangely.       Mira spoke in her sleep in Japanese, even though she hadn’t studied it. Zoe twirled in a corner murmuring, — They said I’m chosen.— Rumi slept like the dead until something sat on her chest and whispered:       — You forgot to turn off the air conditioner…       — AAH! — Rumi leapt up, slammed off every switch.       — Was that… a demon? — Mira murmured, groggily opening her eyes and burying her face in the pillow. Sleep was sacred to her.       — That was the electricity bill, if you don’t quit this spiritual festival every damn stop, —Rumi snapped. — Morning we’re heading to hot springs. No spirits, no witches, no whispering sauce.       Meanwhile, the sauce bubbled disapprovingly.       Surprisingly, at the hot springs… nothing happened. Just relaxation in steamy open-air baths. Mira told ghost stories—about drowned spirits and restless souls; Zoe believed every word, nearly sobbing; Rumi tried to relax while the other two clung to her energy—but she loved them so much that she would choose adventures over calm any day.       They spent four days on the road, four nights in motels that tried to kill them—motels they fought back and demolished, yet somehow survived. But now it was morning—the morning Rumi had been waiting for. No spirits. No witches. No talking sauce—just peace.       — I’m driving, — Rumi said, glancing at Zoe. Zoe had been driving all this way, but last night she’d drunk too much—by law she couldn’t drive today, so Rumi took over.       Mira and Zoe sprawled in the back, chewing bizarre-tasting gum—Mira got toenail-flavored, nearly made her sick; Zoe’s was rotten egg, prompting a hasty cleanup using a trash bag tossed out the window.       It was 3 pm by the time they neared home. Zoe snoozed on Mira’s shoulder; Mira blushed playing an otome game on her phone; Rumi—finally basking in silence—the first she’d had all trip, free from demons, ghosts, curses—just ordinary silence, which she loved and always would. And she loved her friends so much that sometimes it was worth skipping quiet days for chatter-filled, crazy trips to the end of the world—just for their beautiful, wonderful smiles and unforgettable memories.