c031

Lips swollen and hair messy, Hani stares up at the ceiling of Seokga's living room with an immense amount of satisfaction. The fallen god is asleep on top of her. His arms are circled around her back, his head buried in the crook of her neck as he breathes deep and slow and even. He's heavy—crushingly so—but Hani does not mind.

No, she does not mind at all.

She runs her fingers over her tender lips, marveling at the sheer hunger that consumed Seokga during the last hour. At the hunger that consumed her.

Hani once thought of Seokga as a bewildering puzzle. But now…now, she sees that Seokga and she are one and the same. Two jigsaw puzzles that fit together perfectly, despite their difference in natures, their ridges and edges.

They spent the hour doing nothing but kissing, but the mere act of it set Hani on fire in a way she's never known before. And he burned along with her until the embers of passion smoldered to something more comfortable, something sleepy and content. Hani running her fingers gently through Seokga's hair until he'd fallen asleep.

Hani sighs softly, still playing with the silken black waves. So odd, she muses to herself. Less than a week ago she'd been dumping far too much sugar and cream into Seokga's coffee and handing it to him with a scowl. And while she still plans on continuing to do the same, it is entirely possible that she will hand the coffee to him with a smile instead of a sneer. Yet the absurdity of the situation quickly fades. She knew it on the mountain, in the car, and she knows it now. Seokga and her just make sense.

She sighs again, this time in contentment.

This moment. She wishes to freeze time as it is and stay within this moment forever.

But Kim Hani has never been so lucky.

Goosebumps rise, slowly, on her arms, prickling with discomfort. Hani moves her gaze from the ceiling to the room before her as her sharp senses hiss for her to look.

Hani's muscles tauten as the shadows of the room grow darker, stretching out across the black marble floor like spilled ink and seeping toward the couch on which Hani and Seokga lie. The air drops in temperature until Hani's breath clouds before her face and hangs suspended in a fog of pale white.

Her eyelids are suddenly heavy, every part of her body murmuring sleepily as her limbs slowly loosen, relaxing. Let's sleep, her mind mumbles. Let's go to sleep.

But…

One word slithers through her mind—a singular, awful word carrying with it tendrils of shadow. Eoduksini.

No,Hani thinks, struggling to keep her eyes open. No.

She fights back the debilitating exhaustion and shoves Seokga from her, shaking his shoulders in an attempt to wake him. To her immense relief, his jade eyes fly open, clear and alert. "What—"

Hani presses a finger to her lips, standing from the couch and unsheathing her claws with a slight snick.

They appear to be alone in the room.

Yet Hani is no fool, and appearances can be deceiving. She scans the room's deepest shadows, searching for the figure of Dok-hyun, heart pounding in her chest.

Silently, Seokga stands as well, and curls his fingers around his cane's hilt where it leans against the sofa. With a flick, his cane transforms into his sword, razor-sharp and shining silver within the growing darkness. The shadows crawl along the glass panes of the window until they obscure the late morning sun, preventing any trickle of light from entering the apartment. Hani watches as the room's lamps flicker off.

Drowning in darkness, Hani barely dares to move, instead urging her eyes to adjust.

Her entire body is stiff with anticipation. Something is going to lurch out of the shadows at any moment, something terrible and awful that will steal the life from Hani and her god…

But moments, heavy with tension, tick by and nothing comes.

Seokga's voice rips through the silence, as sharp and as frozen as she has ever heard it. "Show yourself."

Only silence, thick and suffocating, answers him.

Hani swallows hard. Her daggers, her trustworthy red daggers that have never failed her, are just upstairs. Is it worth it to run for them? Is it worth it to wield them in front of Seokga? She takes a deep breath, reaching for her fox bead, energy humming in her bloodstream, ready to be released in a blast of pure power if needed. The flare will surely capture the attention of the haetae precinct and reveal Hani's identity, but she has no other choice. Not when it is so entirely probable that a monster of Jeoseung is watching them, waiting.

A low, unfamiliar laugh creeps out from the shadows, echoing through the room, bouncing from wall to wall. It is impossible to determine its point of origin. Hani whips around, pressing her back to Seokga's, holding her fists in the air.

"Seokga," she breathes. "What do you—"

Hani is cut off by the smell. The smell of rotting flesh. She feels Seokga stiffen against her back.

The echoes of the laugh slowly fade into nothingness. Hani tenses as the shadows writhe and undulate, rippling as something emerges from their darkened depths. Her eyes strain, trying to make out Dok-hyun…

Hani falters as a woman wearing a blood-red surgical mask steps into view.

She is long and lanky, glossy black hair falling to her narrow waist, dark eyes wide and framed by thick curtains of lashes. She wears a hospital robe and is barefoot, her toes painted a bubblegum pink. Her fingers may be painted the same, but Hani cannot tell. The girl holds her hands behind her back.

The scent of rotted flesh strengthens.

"This isn't Dok-hyun," Hani whispers under her breath to Seokga, adjusting her position so that she faces the woman, poised to strike. The red-masked woman blinks at her, and Hani has the horrible impression that she is smiling underneath her mask.

"No," comes the reply, sharp with annoyance. "No. The eoduksini is toying with us. Sending cheap lackeys."

She blinks at him slowly. Uncomprehendingly.

Hani's brows inch together warily as the woman fails to respond. But then—

"Am…I…pretty?" Her voice is wet. As if she's speaking through a ruined, blood-filled mouth. Hani wonders, clenching her fists tighter, what is underneath that mask.

"No," Seokga says coldly. Cruelly. "No, I've heard of you, Slit Mouthed Woman." He steps fluidly around the coffee table that sits in front of the couch, twirling his sword in his hand. "So spare me the pleasantries."

Slit Mouthed Woman?

Hani tenses as the woman laughs, a horribly moist sound, and lifts one hand to her mask. In a jerky, violent motion, she rips it off, revealing a rotten mouth gashed open from ear to ear. Her gums are red and irritated, dripping with blood that coats a tattered tongue. "Wrong…answer," she says wetly and pulls her other hand out from behind her back. A scalpel shakes menacingly in her right one. Her nails, Hani notices, are not bubblegum pink as she'd suspected. They are yellowed and ragged, crusted with blood.

The Slit Mouthed Woman launches herself forward, her scalpel slashing through the air as she makes for Seokga. Seokga easily sidesteps her attack, looking more bored than anything. Hani leaps over the coffee table, knocking away a pile of magazines as she launches herself at the Slit Mouthed Woman, her claws extended. She digs them into the woman's slim shoulders, ripping them out as the woman shrieks. Blood splatters through the air, wetting Hani's face, but she's already moving again—dodging the slashing blade and sending the Slit Mouthed Woman crashing back to the wall with a roundhouse kick.

Seokga moves next, striding toward the woman with a look of exasperation. "You know," he sneers to the darkness, "your games have only just started and already, I'm sick of them."

The Slit Mouthed Woman starts forward, but in a quick movement, Seokga severs the hand holding the scalpel from her body and slams her against the wall in a choke hold. "What did he promise you?" he snarls over her wounded screams. When she fails to do anything but shriek in agony, Hani watches as Seokga levels the bloodied blade at her throat, the tip biting ever so slightly into her neck. "Gamangnara, remade?"

The Slit Mouthed Woman shudders, shaking her head.

"What,"Seokga growls again, "did he promise you?" This time, the blade draws blood.

The shadows of the room seem to darken in warning.

"A…" The Slit Mouthed Woman pants, eyes on the blade. "A…"

"Spit. It. Out."

"A…world of…darkness," the Slit Mouthed Woman slurps. "The…Dark…World…born…here."

Chills run down Hani's spine.

The Slit Mouthed Woman strains to break free, but gives up as Seokga's sword cuts farther into the skin of her neck. "He will make…you suffer before…the end…. There is a…message for you…"

"What is it." Seokga's tone is brittle. Hard.

"He wants to…thank you…"

"Thank us?" Hani asks, dumbfounded. "Why?"

"He has not had…this much fun…in millennia…and he is so…hungry…The two of you…will be delicious…. Your combined power…your combined life…is satiating…and you are so fun to…scare."

"I've heard enough." Seokga glances to Hani. "Have you?"

"Wait." Hani takes a step closer to the Slit Mouthed Woman. "What is his next move? Who does he plan to kill? Is it random?"

Her gory smile grows. "Foolish fox…. Your futile investigation…will end with you…. There are no…happy endings…in your story…. The god and the gumiho…ends with…tragedy…"

She does not get the chance to finish her sentence.

Dark blood, mixed with ash, sprays through the air as Seokga beheads her and the shadows in the room slowly recede.

"The eoduksini has fed on enough life that his power has begun to grow," Seokga says as he sits on the couch, staring at the heap of ashes and the discarded red surgical mask, "and with it, his influence."

"The Slit Mouthed Woman," Hani mutters, still standing, prepared for another attack. "What was she?"

"An Unruly. In more detailed terms," Seokga grumbles, thumbing his silver imoogi, "a specific sort of gwisin. There was only one of her—and now, thankfully, there are none." He scowls. "She'll take a while to clean up."

"Her mouth," Hani says, remembering that upturned gash spanning from ear to ear. "How did that…She died like that?"

"Plastic surgery gone wrong," Seokga answers. "I've been meaning to kill her for a while now. She tends to mutilate her victims in the same way. It's revolting."

Hani wrinkles her nose. "I don't suppose there's a key, is there? To unlock the Dark World?"

"I wish." The trickster god pokes at the ash heap with his cane. "It was nothing special," he adds with a scowl, "but with the way that they drone on about it, you'd think that it was some sort of paradise. The truth of it is that it was always dark, chaotic, and too noisy. You should hear how they plead," he adds, "when I kill them. Always asking to return to Gamangnara, as if I have the power to unlock an entire plane of existence. A key really would come in useful."

"You were the king," Hani points out, nudging him with her shoulder.

"Being the king of Gamangnara," the god retorts dryly, "was like being the homeowner of a dirty cave while living next to a mansion. The most glorious mansion in existence. With a pool." He shifts, leaning into her touch. Hani savors the slight press of his body against hers as he speaks, voice taking on a subdued—almost philosophizing—tone. "But the Unrulies don't view it like that. The ones that fell from it see it as their home. The ones born here, on Iseung, see it as a haven where laws don't apply. And I suppose they're right, in that regard. And it would make my job much easier if I could just ship off the entire Unruly population to Gamangnara."

For her own sake, Hani is obscenely grateful that such a thing isn't possible. The Dark World doesn't quite sound like her scene.

"But Hwanin," Seokga spits, voice growing cold, "likes to torment me. It's been so long even he cannot reopen Gamangnara. So the Dark World remains locked and I remain here."

Hani's stomach clenches as she gazes at Seokga, at the bitter set of his jaw, the way his brows are furrowed, his knifepoint nose slightly wrinkled in repulsion.

He will never return to Okhwang.

Never be a god.

Because of her.

She swallows hard, shifting uncomfortably—

But suddenly Seokga's eyes soften and meet hers. "Not," he says quietly, "that I loathe everything about this forsaken realm."

Her heart stumbles in a curious mix of surprise, pleasure, remorse, and self-hatred. "Coffee, of course—"

"—and you," Seokga finishes.

She blinks rapidly. "In that order?" she manages to say, hoping that he doesn't realize how thin her voice sounds.

"It has potential to change." He's begun playing with her hair tentatively, wrapping a dark brown strand around a long finger. Hani wonders if she's the wickedest of all for letting herself enjoy it. For savoring his attention even as she deceives him. She wonders whether she should atone in some way for her lies.

But she is long past being worthy of redemption.