wilted.

the concrete floor was cold beneath her bare feet, always cold even during the summer. 

subject 43 stood in the centre of the training hall, her small frame trembling not from fear but from exhaustion. she had missed a mark that morning during training, her blade only grazing the mannequin’s throat instead of slicing it clean. that tiny moment of hesitation.. too human to be allowed was enough.

two handlers dragged her forward by the arms. her legs scraping against the cement and her wrists were bound behind her back with wire so tight she could feel pulse beating against it. one of them, a tall figure with eyes that never seemed to blink pressed her forehead against the floor.

the smell of blood and bleach hung in the air, sharp enough to stink the back of her throat. 

“you think you can fail and still eat tonight?” 

she didn’t answer. they never wanted answers.

she had learned that silence hurt more than anything she could say so she bit her tongue till she could taste metal and stared at the faint reflection of her face in a puddle beside her. 

she could barely recognize the girl looking back, hollow eyes, the cropped hair.

the first strike came across her back, leather cutting through the air before it kissed her skin. her body jerked forward before another strike followed.

then another.

she lost count after the fifth, her world shrinking till it was only the rhythm of pain and the steady hum of the light above her.

the other children watched from the wall, lined up like statues. 

when it was over, they left her on the floor. a small, trembling shape with torn skin and burning lungs. she crawled towards the darkest corner of the room and folded herself into it, hoping the shadows might hide her for a little while.

her breath coming in shallow, uneven pulls. she wanted to cry but she held it in as crying would only make things worse. 

time passed slowly. the metallic hum faded into the quieter sounds of night. through the vents she could hear the older ones talking in low, tired voices. she couldn’t help but envy them for the way they seemed untouched by another. she wished she could learn that same numbness. 

but deep insider her.. under all the layers of pain and obedience, something still burned. something stubborn and fragile. the thought that maybe this place was not the whole world. 

that maybe somewhere beyond these walls life didn’t hurt the way it did here. 

she pressed her cheek to the cold floor, feeling the vibration of the pipes below and for a moment, it felt like a heartbeat. 

not hers, not anyone’s. 

just the world moving on without her.

but little did she know that one day, she’d be able to join the world. 

that years later, she would laugh in the sunlight with people who cared for her. she would wake up to warm mornings instead of cold concrete. she would have friends who called her by a name she chose for herself. 

she would learn what it felt like to be felt like to be held instead of punished.

the organization’s medical wing always smelled like a lie.

on the surface, it was antiseptic; white walls and instruments aligned in perfect rows but beneath the sterile front lingered the scent of something burning. a scent that stuck to your lungs and won’t let go.

hwan jaeseok sat in his private office miles away from the city, his gaze fixed on the wall of monitors in front of him. one screen streamed live security feeds from the penthouse, each angle carefully tapped into by the organization’s surveillance team.

this time, his sight were set on something rare: the son of half-demon. a creature whose father was born of a centuries old full demon and a human woman. a perfect blend of both worlds. 

and he needed it. craved it.

the target’s bloodline was an anomaly: diluted enough to pass among mortals but potent enough to carry the traces of ancient power that fascinated him. the kind you couldn’t buy, couldn’t breed, couldn’t fake. you just had to take it. 

and taking it would be even sweeter knowing that his only daughter had called him a friend.

yejin’s friendship with the quarter demon had been recorded in the organization’s archives in detail. she traded stories with him, laughed with him, trusted him.. which made what jaeseok was about to do not only cruel but exceptionally personal. 

she was far from the city, thousands of miles away in scotland, her days filled with rain-slick cobblestones and the quiet warmth of her boyfriend’s presence. 

completely unaware that her name was about to be dragged through the mud.

the decoy, a woman built in her image had her part. same frame, same long dark hair. same confident stride. the cameras caught her exactly where they needed to: stepping into the elevator, hood drawn low, swiping the keycard and disappearing inside. just clear enough to plant her name into the minds of anyone who saw it.

jaeseok leaned forward in his chair. 

BOOM.

on the screen, the feed stuttered as the penthouse windows erupted in a violent bloom of fire. the explore tore upwards, shattering glass into the streets below. he watched it with glee in his eyes, the reflection of the blast dancing on his glasses. 

inside that inferno were two beings, rome and another charred human remains he couldn’t bother to know.

a scrap of fabric drifted in the chaos, lodged in the debris: the charred remnant of yejin’s sweater, carrying the faintest trace of her scent. 

on the monitor, smoke swallowed the skyline. jaeseok’s lips curled upward slowly as if savouring the taste of what he’d done. 

it didn’t matter that the target had been her friend. it didn’t matter that framing her meant destroying the fragile peace she had built.

to jaeseok, it was nothing but another successful experiment. 

and somewhere across the ocean, yejin was still living in the illusion of safety, unaware that her name was about to be dragged into the fire..

the warehouse smelled of mildew and old metal— a scent that clung to the inside of her lungs no matter how shallowly she breathed. 

yejin pressed a gloved hand to the cold steel pillar beside her, listening to the ragged gasps of the man’s breathing across the room. he’s been bound to the chair for days now, wrists cinched with plastic ties that bit deep into skin. she’s counted every hour he’d spent in this place. every time he’d woken up screaming, thinking mingyu was still here. 

mingyu. 

he’d left the same night they dragged this bastard in, the same night she watched from a rooftop while the stalker hovered around the poor girl’s apartment. she tracked every alleyway he’d ducked into, every burner phone he used. she’d taken notes in her little black book— when mingyu returned from milan, seemingly exhausted and smelling faintly of jet fuel and someone else’s expensive perfume, she handed him everything he needed to finish it.

but he didn’t finish it. not entirely. 

the man shifted, the chair legs scraping weakly across the concrete. even from here, she could see how his shoulders trembled. mingyu had been thorough but he left the final step for her.

she wondered if he’s done it as a courtesy or as a test. 

her boots made a soft tap as she crossed to the table lined with things such as picks, blades, a small blowtorch she never had the chance to use. she let her fingers drift over to the hilt of a narrow hunting knife. cold steel meeting the palm of her hand.

“please…” his voice cracked. the single syllable sounded like it had been dragged up from the bottom of his lungs. “i already told him everything. you don’t have to—“

yejin tilted her head slightly. she could still feel the adrenaline humming in her limbs, that delicious sharpness she could ever feel in moments like this, where the line between her past and her present blurred so think it might as well not exist. 

“you did,” she agreed softly, her voice bright. “but you’re the reason why she’ll never feel safe again.” 

she crouched in front of him, her gaze level with his. the man’s eyes— bloodshot and glassy, tears and sweat streaking the grime on his cheeks. she wondered if he could smell the soap she used just moments ago, how clean her hands were compared to the filth of his own.

“so this part,” she murmured, pressing the blade under his chin, “isn’t about information anymore.”

a half sob.. maybe a plea broke from him as she stood as she watched the tremor roll through his body. this was the moment she learned to savour back in those years she never spoke about: the precise second when someone realized there would be no negotiation.

only consequence. 

she didn’t bother making it quick.

when it was over, she wiped the blade on his sleeve. the warehouse fell back into the quiet.. no breathing but her own, no sound but her heartbeat. 

outside, her phone buzzed in her pocket. mingyu’s name on the screen.

is it done?

yejin glanced back at the body, then at the blood slowly spreading in a dark halo around the chair.

she smiled faintly, feeling cleaner somehow than she had all week.

something that gives your muse hope.

despair is not an option for her, she’s far too stubborn to let that happen to her so i guess being hardheaded is a form of hope. she tries to pick hope over despair each day. if she can’t see good in humanity, she’ll find the good in at least one person. if she can’t save the world, she’ll help one person. anything else is admitting defeat and she refuses to do that. 

how your muse responds to being helped / taken care of.

when being helped or taken care of, she often feels conflicted while she does appreciate the gesture and acknowledges the kindness behind it, she can’t shake off the discomfort of feeling like a burden. there’s a sense of unease that accompanies the idea of relying on others as she’s more used to shouldering her burdens independently. it’s not about pride but rather than a desire not to impose on others. 

how your muse responds to unconditional love.

skeptical of such a concept, she may respond with guardedness and hesitancy. she may struggle to fully accept or believe in the sincerity of such love, viewing it through a lens of doubt— leading her to question behind the affection, fearing that they may be insincere or conditional. 

how your muse responds to danger.

having been exposed to violence from a young age, she has developed a keen sense of awareness and an ability to assess threats quickly. her past involvement in the criminal world has equipped her with survival skills and to be street smart, allowing her to navigate through dangerous situations with a level headed approach. though.. yejin is still not immune to fear or vulnerability. she may experience moments of apprehension or doubt, especially when faced with unfamiliar or overwhelming threats. 

how your muse responds to stress. 

her response to stress involves a combination of a lot of things. she prioritizes taking some time alone when stresses to recharge to unwind, she either listens to music or watches her favourites her favourite movies, providing her with a sense of escape and relaxation. however.. when stress becomes particularly intense, she leaves for busan for a change of scenery, finding solace in the familiarity of her hometown. 

how your muse responds to anger.

when she’s angry, she takes some time for herself to process her emotions as she recognizes the importance of stepping back and giving herself space to reflect on the situation and by distancing herself, she avoids reacting impulsively and potentially saying or doing something she may regret. 

did your muse grow up too fast?

as the waves gently lapped at the shore, a little girl sat cross-legged in the warm sand, her small hands busy shaping the grains into a sandcastle. while she was engrossed with the structure that she’s trying to build, her father watched her with a tender smile, his eyes reflecting the pride and love he felt for his daughter. 

“well, look at you..” he said softly, pulling the little girl into his lap— earning a high pitched giggle from chaewon. “building a castle fit for a princess.”

chaewon’s giggles continues on, her laughter ringing out against the backdrop of the rolling waves. 

and with a determined nod, she looks at her father with a wide grin etched across her lips before turning back to her sand castle, her mind filled with childlike dreams. “appa!” she shouted, “when i’m a grown up, i’ll build you the biggest.. moooost pretty castle in the world!” she declared, her voice tinged with innocence.

“well, i’ll hold you to that.. my little dreamer.”

he said, ruffling her hair affectionately before he wraps his arms around the small figure, trapping her into a tight embrace.

yejin sat calmly in the dimly lit office of the east sea group’s leader, her feet propped up on his desk. she exuded an air of nonchalance, as if she belonged there, as if this was just another mundane day at the office. but beneath the facade of tranquility lay a calculated mind, a killer’s instinct honed by years of training and execution.

through the tinted windows, she already knew she was being watched; guardians appointed to ensure her success or.. in the worst-case scenario, to clean up her mess. but she didn’t let their presence rattle her— instead, she threw a sly smile towards their direction. 

then.. a notification chimed on her phone, drawing her attention away from her surroundings. she unlocked the screen to find the wire transfer from minseo, the digits on the screen making her smile widen. thirty-one billion korean won — a hefty sum for a job well done. she pocketed her phone, the weight of the digits in her bank account already fueling her adrenaline.

she waited patiently, the rhythmic beats of redbone’s ‘come and get your love’ pulsating in her ears through her earphones, the lyrics blending seamlessly with the anticipation as she mouthed the lyrics to herself— the music providing a steady backdrop to her thoughts, drowning out any distractions as she focused solely on her objective: to kill the leader of the east sea group.

finally, the moment arrived. the target entered the room, his presence filling the space with aura of authority. but to yejin, he was nothing more than just another prey.

“hi.”

she greeted him, her voice light and casual.

and with swift precision, she raised her weapon, the silencer muffling the sound of the shot as a single bullet found its mark on his forehead, ending his life in an instant.

as the lifeless body slumped to the ground, she hopped out of her seat and makes her way towards the body while she reached for the knife nestled in her holster, her movements fluid and practiced. with a deft flick of her wrist, she severed a finger from the corpse, a macabre trophy that minseo has requested. it was a gruesome task but one she performed with ease.

and as she reached for her phone to let minseo know that the job is done, a bodyguard charged into the room, his eyes wide with shock and rage. they locked eyes for a moment and in that instant, yejin knew a confrontation was inevitable.

a fierce struggle ensued as their knives clashed with each other, each move calculated and precise. but in that moment of desperation, their weapons were knocked aside, leaving them grappling in a hand to hand combat.

in the heat of the struggle, he managed to gain the upper hand as he pushed yejin to the ground, wrapping his hands around her throat. panic surging through her veins as she fought desperately for air, her cries stifled by the man's crushing grip while she claws at his hands in a sad attempt to keep herself alive.

for a fleeting moment, she did question it— death.

would it finally reunite her with her father, finally ending the emptiness that gnawed at her from the inside?

but survival instincts kicked in and with a surge of strength, she managed to grab onto a fallen knife and plunged it into the bodyguard's side, ending his life with single blow.

gasping for breath, yejin got up on her feet, the red marks of strangulation against her pale skin— evidence of the close call she had narrowly escape. and with practiced efficiency, she wiped away any trace of her presence, leaving the room as quietly as she had entered.