Rejected thrice

      When Will She Be Happy?       A girl, around fourteen years old, sat on the ground. All grimy, with greasy black hair and empty gray eyes. She was watching the sun reach its zenith, no longer paying attention to the intense pain the light caused in her eyes.       When will it become sunny in her dull world?       – Dasom, there you are,–came a hoarse woman’s voice from somewhere nearby. The girl didn’t respond right away. She only looked at the woman when the latter grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her around.–Dasom, were you able to get anything?–the woman asked greedily, staring at her daughter with the last drop of hope in her eyes. She didn’t care one bit about the new bruises and scrapes on the girl.       Dasom looked away, unwilling to meet her mother’s gaze. She reached into her jeogori, pulling out a torn-up piece of bread she had managed to steal from a vendor.       She had taken more at first—enough for herself too. But the merchant caught her, beat her, and forced her to beg for forgiveness. When she didn’t, he beat her again, snatched the bread away, grabbed her by the hair, and kicked her into the road to be trampled. She had almost been crushed under a horse’s hooves.       But that didn’t matter. She had still managed to smuggle out one piece of bread.       Still, her mother wouldn’t get full. She would be disappointed.       Dasom had let her down.       – …Is that it? Damn it, you’re completely useless!–Snatching the bread, the woman struck Dasom across the cheek. Dasom fell to the ground, clutching her cheek and holding back tears.       «I’m sorry, Mama…»       Dasom stayed there, hearing her mother chew noisily as she devoured the bread. Then the woman stood up and kicked Dasom, making her curl up even tighter.       – I don’t want to see you again unless you bring more food, or at least money!–Startled by her mother’s words, Dasom looked at her in fear. She scrambled to her feet, almost stumbling, and ran toward the market street.       If she didn’t bring food, her mother would abandon her. She would be left alone. How could she survive by herself? She would just die.       Dasom was running far too fast for a child whose bones showed through her skin. But her bruises reminded her of themselves again—her leg ached. Maybe a cart had run over it.       She tripped and fell face-first into the dirt. She wanted to cry. She was scared—terrified—of being left alone. What would she do without her mother? And if she made some terrible mistake, there would be no one to ask for forgiveness! Dasom didn’t even know how to speak!       – Are you okay?–Dasom froze at the sound of a stranger’s voice. It was a man. Was he going to hit her for blocking his way? She didn’t mean to, she hadn’t wanted to—but do people care about that?       She reacted quickly, scrambling off the road, preparing to run, but fell again because of hes injured leg.       She tried once more to get up and escape, but a hand landed on her shoulder. That was it. She would die. She had blocked his path twice. Would he beat her now? Or harass her? Or maybe just stomp on her empty head?       – Hey, are you okay?–When the meaning of the question finally sank in, she looked up at the man. He was also dirty, in tattered and filthy clothes. His hair was probably greasy too. Pale as death and skinny.       But his eyes… such worried brown eyes…       Dasom gave a timid nod, observing the man.       He, in turn, didn’t hesitate to study her.       Only when her gaze moved away from his eyes did she notice an old pipa. Just as battered and dirty as its owner.       So, he was poor too? Starving like she and her mother?       Apparently satisfied that she was fine, the man went on his way, no longer looking at the girl.       Dasom took advantage of being let off so easily and ran—stumbling now and then—to find food.       «He’s so kind…»       Dasom was overjoyed to have run into a blind merchant.       It didn’t take her long to steal another loaf of bread and some pink fruits.       Peaches, maybe?       She took off her jeogori and stuffed the food inside, avoiding other vagrants like herself—but clearly stronger.       She was limping again, trying not to step hard on her injured leg.       Blending into the crowd, the girl veered toward the houses, so no one would notice the food she had.       Otherwise, they would beat her instead of that blind vendor.       Accidentally stepping on her injured leg, she landed on her backside, clutching the food to her chest. Dasom looked around in fear, worried someone might notice her and beat her again. When she looked to the right, she saw that man with the pipa. Water from a puddle—left over from the rain two days ago—had splashed on him. He looked pitiful.       For the first time, Dasom felt sorry for someone other than herself.       But how could she help him? Comforting someone was the most useless thing—so that wasn’t an option.       Maybe he was hungry?       Well, everyone was hungry, so it seemed like a good idea!       But she had food only for her mother and herself…       Dasom hesitated, uncertain about what to do.       She probably wouldn’t be able to get more food—by the law of the streets, she'd be caught and beaten.       Her mother needed food. She did too.       But that man… maybe he had a family.       «Can I survive one more day without food?»       Dasom approached the man, who looked at her questioningly.       She turned her back to the road and untied her jeogori.       She held out a loaf of bread and three pink fruits—maybe peaches.       The man seemed stunned, not expecting to see food in the girl’s hands—let alone that *she* would be the one to offer it.       She didn’t hold the food out for long.       He took it and stuffed it into his vest.       Dasom quickly retied her jeogori, hiding the rest of the stolen goods.       She was about to leave when he grabbed her by the wrist. A wave of fear surged through her—was he going to beat her too?       – Thank you... thank you,–the man whispered, looking at the back of her head.       She turned to him and gave a small nod.       He let go of her hand, and she ran off.

***

      Who would’ve thought she’d become just a little happier after that man— Jinu —entered her world?       From one of his ramblings, she figured out that he had a mother and a sister. They were poor too, like her. He tried to earn money playing the pipa and using his voice, but it didn’t go very well.       He had become so desperate, no longer hoping for a bright future—until Dasom gave him a little food.       She started bringing him food more and more often, even going hungry herself when her haul was small.       It seemed the bruises on her childlike face bloomed more and more.       But Dasom didn’t pay them any attention—she rarely looked at her reflection anyway.       And Jinu didn’t care about her bruises.       Just like everyone else.       But Dasom didn’t care about everyone else either. Jinu became a small ray of light in her dark world. His opinion was the only one that mattered.       She even brought him to her secret place, where they sat and watched the sun rise to its peak.       – I’ve been meaning to ask — what’s your name?–Jinu had never called her by anything. Dasom was always the one to come to him. It was surprising that he even asked.       But how could she tell him?       Dasom looked away, staring at the ground. Then she said:       «My name is Dasom.»       – What? What did you say? I didn’t catch that.       Dasom looked up at him, seeing his puzzled expression. She repeated:       «I said, my name is Dasom.»       – Huh?–Jinu still looked confused.       Dasom sighed. She pointed to her lips and then slowly mouthed the syllables:       «Da-som.»       – …Dasom?–Jinu asked uncertainly.       Dasom beamed.       He said her name!       Someone besides her mother knew her name!       She nodded eagerly, smiling from ear to ear.       – That’s a cute name,–he said, looking at her closely.       She started giggling, unable to hold back her joy.       She was so happy!       But when she looked up again, she was met with a horrified gaze.       That fear spread to Dasom too.       Had she scared him?       Should she not have laughed?       Did she look scary when she smiled?       – …Dasom, you… you can’t speak?–Jinu asked hesitantly.       The horror vanished from Dasom’s face, replaced with indifference.       Then, she gave a small nod.       Jinu had no idea that the girl was mute.       He had always thought she was just cautious with him, too shy to talk.       And when she said her name earlier, he thought she was just messing around.       But when she laughed so sincerely, he realized—he couldn’t hear her laugh. Only her breath.       How had she survived this long without a voice?       Now he understood why Dasom had never spoken to him.       Not because she didn’t want to—       But because she couldn’t.

***

      «Why does the sun always leave?»       Dasom was sitting on the ground, waiting for her mother. She had just eaten earlier with Jinu and then came here to wait.       Before long, her mother arrived—tattered and dirty.       She leaned against a straw-stuffed cushion and then looked at Dasom. The girl held out some food to her, but the woman turned away.       Dasom felt uneasy.       Had she done something wrong?       Was the food spoiled?       Or… did her mother simply not eat anymore?       –…Dasom,–The girl immediately scooted closer, sitting beside her. Her mother looked terribly pale.–…Dasom.–Despite her fear, Dasom touched her mother’s arm—but she didn’t react.–…Dasom.–Dasom didn’t understand. Her mother kept calling her name, but didn’t look at her at all.–…Dasom.–It sounded like she said something else too.       Dasom leaned in, listening only to her mother’s voice and breath.–Die, Dasom.       The girl froze, unable to believe what she had just heard.       And yet, her mother kept repeating it—telling her to die.       Dasom backed away, turning away from her.       Her mother wanted her dead.       Hearing those words, tears involuntarily rolled down Dasom’s cheeks.       She felt hurt, betrayed, furious.       The person she’d lived with for so many years, the one she tried so hard to please—was wishing her dead.       «– She hates you. She’s always wanted to abandon you. Who needs such a useless child?»       Dasom went still, no longer sniffling.       That voice—it wasn’t hers.       It felt like it belonged to someone else.       «– You’re useless. That’s why she wants you dead. If you die next to her, she’ll kill you for being so worthless. You don’t deserve to live!»       Dasom clapped her hands over her ears, trembling in fear.       Yes, that woman would kill her if she stayed.       She was terrified of her.       But also terrified of *that voice*.       Dasom stood up and ran to her secret place.       There, neither her mother nor the voice could find her.       But… where would she go afterward?       She would come back in the morning.       She just didn’t want to fall asleep next to that woman.

***

      Her heart sank into her stomach.       Dasom screamed.       Her chest burned from the pain of what she saw.       Her mother—the same woman who last night wished her death—had hanged herself inside their shack.       Dasom sobbed.       Her mother had abandoned her—left her here alone!       Last night, Dasom had thought maybe her mother had meant a different "Dasom."       And now, she understood which one.       Her mother’s name had also been Dasom.       The girl knelt on the ground, hugging the woman’s legs that hung lifeless in the air.       Where could she go now?       Cruel people would take this place from her.       She would have nowhere to sleep, nowhere to hide.       Her secret place was so cold—she’d come back here frozen, hoping for warmth.       But now she was even colder.       And her mother… her body was cooling too.       She was no longer warm.       Dasom needed warmth.       Warmth…       Jinu.       She needed Jinu.       He would understand. He had to help her!       Dasom ran, ignoring the bitter wind that stole what little warmth she had left.       She was freezing.       When she reached the usual spot where he played his pipa, he wasn’t there.       Maybe he was still asleep.       She ran toward where he and his family stayed. Jinu had once introduced her to a girl younger than herself—so small and thin compared to her.       And their mother—also pale and sickly.       Dasom reached their shelter… but they weren’t there.       Where could they be?       Had someone kicked them out?       Then where could they have gone?       She looked around in a panic, not knowing what to do.       – You lookin’ for that boy?–The girl turned to an old man who was frowning at her.– Imperial men took them to the palace just yesterday. You might as well face it—he left you behind.–The old man grinned cruelly. Dasom stared at him in disbelief.       Jinu wouldn’t leave her.       He couldn’t.       She had brought him and his family food—so much of it, sacrificing herself every time.       Jinu wouldn’t leave her behind!       He couldn’t…       He wouldn’t...       «– Of course he could. You heard him say how people had started noticing him—giving him money. He just left you behind. Why would he take along some useless girl? A girl whose mother died because of her.»       «No, no, it’s not my fault! I didn’t want any of this! Didn’t Jinu even care about me… just a little?»       «– You don’t deserve your mother’s love… or that boy’s. But if you truly want someone to love you… I can help you...»       The girl froze when she heard the word help.       Could that voice really help her?       She didn’t want to rot here.       She didn’t want to die as low and forgotten as everyone else.       If she were to die—then let it be as someone loved by all.

***

      Being a court musician was a dream come true for Jinu.       Yes, he’d had to leave his family behind.       But he paid for that—hearing that damned voice every single day, the one that had helped him.       And those marks… they kept spreading across his body.       No matter how hard he tried to push his past away, that voice always brought it back.       Reminded him that he was a selfish coward, someone who chose to survive alone.       After finishing a performance on his pipa, Jinu returned to his seat—nearly beside the emperor himself.       Then began the dance of the gisaeng.       Three beautiful women performed what looked like an exorcism ritual.       Jinu wasn’t especially interested in watching them—there wasn’t much else he *could* do, though.       He absentmindedly studied the women—their colorful long-sleeved dresses and asymmetrical parasol-like hats.       They danced with white scarves.       As the three dancers approached the guests, they each performed in front of someone.       The woman in red danced before the emperor, who seemed particularly intrigued by her.       There was something about her that caught the eye—graceful, yet intense.       As she swept her arm in a fluid motion, Jinu’s eyes caught a glimpse of something familiar.       Marks.       On her skin.       And for a moment, it seemed her eyes flickered amber.       But they were gray. Just like Dasom’s.       The dirty, beaten little girl who couldn’t speak. A girl who never stood out.       Except for those eyes—dull gray, like a lifeless sky.       «– You left her. And she was so kind to you—bringing you food even though she was probably starving herself.»       Jinu now sat as if on needles, trying to ignore the cursed voice.       It had decided to speak again.       And the marks on his body were pulsing, spreading.       He hadn’t even noticed the dance had ended, nor that the emperor had stood and walked to the dancers and their patroness.       As Jinu’s guilt began to settle just a bit, he looked over.       The emperor was now speaking to the woman in red—and gently lifted her chin with his fingers.       Then he turned away and returned to his seat.       The dancers followed, heading to their own places.       Except the woman in red.       She was walking toward *him*.       And then she sat down—right next to him.       Jinu froze.       Why was she here?       No one was allowed to sit here. This table was reserved only for him.       Somewhere, a performance resumed—but he paid it no attention.       The woman turned her head, lips curving into a smile.       «Well hello, Jinu. I see you no longer play on the streets.»       Jinu stiffened. A cold sweat ran down his spine.       He suddenly understood who was sitting in front of him.       Thanks to one person, he had learned how to read lips.       –…Dasom?–he whispered, barely breathing from the shock.       Dasom simply smirked, her eyes gleaming amber.       It hadn’t been his imagination.       She, too, had made a pact with the Gwi-ma.

***

      For the past three years, Dasom had survived by clinging to the voice in her head—the one that blamed her for being abandoned.       After she accepted its help, people finally started noticing her.       She was taken in to train as a dancer.       It had been horrifying to discover she had no voice.       But Madam Suyeon had found a way around that.       Men pitied the poor mute girl.       And Dasom? She didn’t care for their pity.       It had never helped her.       From the absolute bottom, Dasom had clawed her way up to the highest gisaeng rank — Ilp’ae.       She didn’t enjoy being seen as nothing more than a beautiful ornament—but she had no other path.       Now, the only thing left was to enter the palace.       It didn’t matter if she became a concubine or a special gisaeng —life in the palace would be better.       The voice kept trying to push guilt onto her.       At first, it worked.       But eventually, she stopped listening.       If she kept blaming and pitying herself, the marks would consume her entirely.       Her eyes already flickered amber now and then.       And yet nothing had prepared her for the moment she saw him again—while dancing before the emperor.       That painfully familiar face.       Jinu.       So, he had abandoned his family.       He really did choose luxury over them.       Rumor had it his poor little sister had become a courtesan.       And their mother… had died.       She could have helped them.       «— It’s your fault. If you had helped them, they wouldn’t have suffered like this. You’re no better than that traitor!»       A lump of guilt caught in her throat—it became slightly hard to breathe.       The marks... they were starting to spread to her neck.       Soon, they’d reach her face.       After the dance ended, the emperor approached us.       He expressed a desire to take Dasom.       Madam Suyeon warned him that Dasom had no voice.       But apparently, the emperor didn’t care much.       He lifted her chin and uttered those vile words:       – You were beautiful when you danced. I don’t care whether you have a voice or not—you’d make a very interesting toy.       How predictable.       Whether for amusement during his idle days or for pleasure in bed—it didn’t matter.       Somehow, she had managed to keep her innocence this long…       But it seemed the emperor himself would be the one to tear away what she had tried so desperately to protect.       «Not that it matters. There was never any avoiding it anyway.»

***

      In a short time, Dasom became the emperor’s second favorite—not among the concubines, but among the musicians.       Unfortunately, she couldn’t surpass Jinu.       Maybe she could have, if she’d had a voice.       But her flute playing, thankfully, pleased the emperor very much.       Of course, she didn’t rise to his favor solely because of one song.       She quickly became his favorite because she let him into her bed.       That’s why she was summoned more often than Jinu.       In a twisted way, she took satisfaction in ruining his peace—chipping away at his ego.       But even that didn’t feel good.       After each performance, the emperor hinted at intimacy.       As if he didn’t already have several concubines—and an empress.       But how could she refuse?       She couldn’t scream.       She couldn’t tell anyone.       And no one wanted to get involved with her anyway.       She acted distant, cold.       And really, what was the point of speaking to someone who didn’t even have a voice?       Even if she wrote it out—who would believe her?       And it was foolish.       After all, she was favored by the emperor himself.       He would always say how much he liked her—how he’d make her his favorite concubine.       In moments of passion, he even proposed making her his empress.       Of course, Dasom didn’t believe him.       Her? An empress?       She was a commoner.       Why would he ever do that?       Who had ever heard of such a thing?       So she said nothing—only pulled him into passionate kisses.       At one point, she began to think maybe… maybe this wasn’t so bad.       It seemed like the emperor loved her.       But the voice in her head said otherwise.       Said he was just playing with her.       And Dasom trusted that voice more than the foolish heart that fluttered when he spoke to her gently.

***

      She crossed paths with Jinu more than once.       Sometimes she even wanted to talk to him.       But he avoided her. Successfully.       It infuriated her.       But what angered her even more was watching him openly flirt with some servant—or another female musician.       Dasom didn’t even doubt for a second that she was also sleeping with the emperor.       He loved women too much—always straying.       But what really enraged her was the thought that the *musician girl* might also be sleeping with Jinu.       Even when he was poor, Jinu had been quite handsome.       She’d noticed that back when she’d started to feel comfortable around him.       And now… he was using that fully.       She once even caught him kissing a girl in the corridor.       In that moment, she wanted to strangle the girl—make her keep her hands off what belonged to her.       That thought haunted her.       Why was she so angry at the idea of Jinu having flings?       At first, she thought it was because she hated seeing him live so well, while she had suffered.       But then she realized—she hadn’t thought about that even once while living as a gisaeng.       She remembered Jinu with warmth, sadness, pain—and yes, resentment.       But the hatred was only because he had abandoned her.       Most of her memories, though, she held close, like something precious.       She smiled remembering them.       And in those moments, the voice would go silent—let her breathe.       Eventually, she realized the truth:       She had loved him.       She loved him so much, she wanted to make him feel the same pain she did.       Dasom didn’t know how to love.       She didn’t know how one was supposed to love.       So she wanted Jinu to suffer—to go through what she had gone through.       She wanted to become the only one for him.       Because of her love for him, she orchestrated the death of that female musician.       Most believed the girl had taken her own life.       But there was one person who knew the truth—who had really caused her death.       After that realization, the voice in Dasom’s head began to speak more often.       «— It’s your fault. You killed her. You killed all of them. Now you want to kill him, too? You’re not worthy of any of them!»       Her guilt grew exponentially, until she could no longer control it.       The next day, they found Dasom’s corpse.

***

      For the past 400 years, Dasom had lived underground.       When her guilt overflowed, the marks consumed her entirely.       She found herself in a horrific place, teeming with monsters.       She soon realized—they were demons.       Her appearance changed.       Her eyes now glowed amber.       Her skin turned a soft pale violet.       The marks remained dark purple.       Her fingers no longer had nails—well, they did, but they were the same color as her skin.       Not nails, but *claws*.       Her fangs had also grown longer.       Over the long years she spent among the demons, she came to understand one thing:       Everyone feared Gwi-ma — because he was the only one who could kill them all.       Well, except for the Huntresses.       Even they, the demons, had no choice but to submit to Gwi-ma, tremble before him in fear, and offer him human souls—while drowning in their own guilt and regret.       No matter what kind of demon they were, they were all united by one thing:       They regretted something.       And it tormented them.       Some had become demons so completely that they had forgotten their human lives.       Very few still looked anything close to human.       Gwi-ma regularly sent out groups of demons to bring him human souls.       But either they never returned, or one of them came back alone—only to be devoured or burned alive by him.       This time, he sent out several more.       Something must’ve gone terribly wrong—because only one she-demon returned.       She was limping badly. Clearly injured.       Was it mercy, when Gwi-ma didn’t make her climb the stairs?       Maybe. But then, he killed her anyway.       How merciful. Truly.       As the rest of the demons recoiled once again in terror, he appeared—someone she never expected to see.

***

      After that self-proclaimed boy band had left, Dasom, with a bit of nervousness, floated toward Gwi-ma.       Luckily, she could at least somewhat fly.       She bowed deeply, while the other demons watched her.       «My Lord, do you really think those clowns can handle it? What if Jinu is planning something against you?»       She truly suspected Jinu.       After all those years living in seclusion, he suddenly decided to help?       Or had he been brewing this plan all that time?       — And what do you propose?       «I propose that I watch them on the surface. And, if necessary, assist them.       You know many demons are clumsy around humans—their disguises are often completely unconvincing.»       — Hmph. Do what you want.       But bring me souls.

***

      In truth, Dasom didn’t care in the slightest whether Jinu and his little boy band failed.       She was far more interested in the Huntresses.       Who was the one always cutting them down, as soon as they appeared?       Dasom must’ve been too lost in thought—because she collided head-first with a stranger.       The poor girl fell flat on her butt, while Dasom managed to stay upright.       Out of instinct, she was about to flash her glowing eyes—but then remembered she couldn’t risk revealing herself.       So instead, she decided to help her.       Only now did she take a proper look at the girl:       Purple—no, maybe violet—hair, braided into a single plait.       A doll-like face.       Warm brown eyes.       She looked... almost magically beautiful.       Dasom reached out a hand to help, deciding that, for now, she should assist the lovely stranger.       —Ah, thank you, — said the girl, and Dasom was charmed.       What a lovely voice. She hoped this beautiful diva actually used it for something meaningful.       Dasom smiled and began signing:       «I’m sorry, I got lost in thought and didn’t see you.»       She could only hope the girl knew sign language.       Or at least that she’d understand Dasom couldn’t speak.       —Oh, it’s nothing. It happens to everyone, — the girl replied, and Dasom exhaled with relief. At least someone understood her gestures.       — I wasn’t really watching the road either,—the girl added, then suddenly seemed to realize something and hurried off, waving as she left.       «Well, well. I’m almost certain she’s some kind of celebrity. I have to find you again, beautiful…»

***

      Who would’ve thought she was a demon hunter?       Such a graceful girl — and yet she hunted filth like them.       Still, it was strange to feel something like annoyance, a sensation Dasom had nearly forgotten.       And of course, it was all Jinu’s fault. Again.       Now, it bothered her that he was hovering around Rumi.       But she couldn’t kill him. Not now.       And worse — Dasom felt something unfamiliar. She was angry that Rumi spoke to Jinu, and angry that Jinu spoke to Rumi.       She resented them both.       But she didn’t want them to suffer.       Over these 400 years, she had reflected on many things.       Her love had been sick. Twisted.       Wishing Jinu would suffer as she had — that had never been love.       In the end, they ended up in the same place. Again.       Maybe her broken feelings for Jinu hadn’t faded.       Of course he had to show up again.       And Rumi... Rumi drew Dasom in.       Her voice was so beautiful. So calming.       And whenever Dasom heard it, the voices in her head fell silent — if only for a moment.       She had thought she'd never fall in love again.       But she had.       Not quite with Rumi — but with her voice, her face, her warm brown eyes.       But that wasn’t all Rumi was.       And maybe… that kind of love wasn’t worth it anymore.       Dasom had loved so many.       And they always ended up dead.       She loved the idea of Rumi.       But she didn’t want her to die.       Maybe… she had lied to Gwi-ma just a little.

***

      «Hello, Rumi. It’s been a while.»       Dasom was standing on the girl’s railing, looking down at her.       Rumi stared up, tense — starting to realize who she might be.       —Lately, I keep running into you, demon,—she summoned her sword, and Dasom tilted her head to the side.       «Don’t worry. I know Jinu. And I have no plans to hurt your fans or you. I’m only here because I want to talk.»       —Why would I talk to you? If you know Jinu, I’m sure he told you everything, — she didn’t lower her sword, only grew more guarded.       «I knew him a long time ago. We’re not in touch now. And probably won’t be again.»       — Then what do you want from me? Why bother talking to me? — she still asked, suspicious, though she lowered the blade just a little.       «I like you. Is that enough?»       She seemed momentarily surprised — stunned.       But she quickly collected herself, sheathed her sword, and kept a wary eye on Dasom.       — And what do you want to talk about?—Rumi crossed her arms, her gaze sharp and defensive.       Dasom jumped down from the railing and crouched to appear smaller — below Rumi’s eye level.       «I just want to listen. It’s so calm when I’m around you. Ah, my name is Dasom. If you don’t want to talk about yourself… maybe you could sing me a song?»       Rumi stared at the ground for a while.       She had no idea what was going through this demon’s head.       This one was even weirder than Jinu.       — Um, Dasom? Like love? — Rumi asked cautiously, glancing at the strange demon.       Dasom perked up a bit, clearly curious.       «Does that name mean love? How ironic.»       —What do you mean?       Dasom hesitated, her eyes thoughtful.       She didn’t really want to talk about it.       But… if Rumi wanted to know...

***

      After Dasom told her about her twisted experience with love, Rumi didn’t even get a chance to respond — other Huntresses interrupted them.       Dasom hadn’t seen Rumi again since.       She was afraid of seeing fear in her eyes. Or worse — disgust.       What had she even been thinking, opening up like that?       Well, it didn’t matter anymore.       Today, Gwi-ma’s dream would finally come true.       «Who would’ve thought this would be the end for us — the unclean?       It seems Rumi became someone precious to Jinu, if he was willing to sacrifice himself for her.       Though... I think this is the best ending I could’ve asked for.       I never learned how to love.       And no one ever managed to love me.»       «Die, love».