Chi-Long's dark eyes reflected nothing.
Just black.
Endless.
They stared down at Eun Byol's body sprawled in the mud.
Ha Joon knelt beside her, arms wrapped around her shoulders, holding her like a blanket, his chest heaving, tears streaming down his face mixing with the rain.
"Please," he whispered.
His voice cracked.
"Please, Chi-Long. You have to help her."
His face twisted with desperation, but beneath the fear was something else—a small flicker of hope, of relief that Chi-Long was here, that she could fix this, that she would.
Chi-Long stood above them.
Silent.
The rain fell soft and gentle around her, summer rain that washed the forest clean, that dripped from the leaves in quiet rhythm, that ran down her face in thin streams over her pale skin, over her blood-red lips, over her perfect black ponytail.
Her expression was flat.
Emotionless.
But layered beneath it, barely visible, was something else—quiet irritation, disbelief, tired resignation, like she was looking at something inevitable, something she'd seen before, something that always came to this.
Her face said enough.
*Of course it came to this.*
The rain pattered against the leaves.
Against the mud.
Against Eun Byol's still body.
The forest was alive around them—birds silent now, insects quiet, only the sound of water falling through branches, dripping from ferns, pooling in the soft earth.
The clouds above were thick and gray, blocking the sun completely, turning the world dim and cold.
Chi-Long finally spoke.
Her voice was soft.
Gentle.
But powerful.
Domineering.
Soothing yet absolute.
"Ha Joon. Both of you. Get up."
The words fell slow and steady, like stones dropped into deep water.
Ha Joon stared at her.
Confused.
Afraid.
His hands shook.
He looked down at Eun Byol, then back at Chi-Long, his mouth opening but no words coming out.
Slowly, trembling, he let go of Eun Byol and stood.
His legs barely held him.
Chi-Long's eyes shifted down to Eun Byol's body.
The girl lay motionless in the mud, her brown hair turned black with sweat and rain, her skin pale and slick, her chest rising and falling in shallow breaths.
Chi-Long looked at her.
"Get up."
Her voice was quiet.
Firm.
Eun Byol didn't move.
Chi-Long's dark eyes swallowed her completely, consuming her in utter darkness, reflecting nothing, giving nothing.
"I will not repeat myself again," Chi-Long said. "Get up."
Eun Byol lay there.
Her eyes were open but unfocused.
Staring at nothing.
*Nothing matters.*
*I've been wasting my life.*
*I don't know what to do.*
*What to say.*
*I've just been used by the next person and the next and the next.*
*I'm tired.*
*Drained.*
*I want it all to end.*
*I want it all to end.*
Chi-Long tilted her head slightly.
"Fine."
She knelt.
One knee pressed into the mud beside Eun Byol's body.
Her right hand reached out, slow and deliberate, and took Eun Byol's hand.
She held it gently.
Almost tenderly.
Her fingers traced Eun Byol's palm, massaging it softly, examining each finger with calm precision.
Then she took the index finger.
Bent it back.
And broke it.
---
Eun Byol's scream tore through the forest.
Raw.
Shrill.
Agony.
Ha Joon's body jerked.
"Stop!" he shouted. "Please! You're hurting her! Please, I beg you—"
The words died in his throat.
Fear flooded him.
Real fear.
The kind that made his limbs lock, his breath catch, his mind go blank.
He realized, in that moment, that he was truly afraid.
Not of pain.
Not of death.
But of her.
Of Chi-Long.
Eun Byol's screams filled the air as Chi-Long took the middle finger.
Played with it.
Bent it.
Broke it.
The sound of bone snapping echoed through the trees.
Sharp.
Wet.
Final.
Ha Joon moved without thinking.
He stepped forward, reaching out, trying to stop her.
Chi-Long's head turned.
Her eyes locked onto him.
Her voice came flat.
Cold.
Absolute.
"Who gave you permission to speak? Be silent."
Ha Joon froze.
His body stopped mid-step.
His mind screamed at him to move, to help, to do something, but his body wouldn't obey.
His instincts took over—ancient, primal instincts that told him:
*Do not speak.*
*Do not move.*
*Watch your breath.*
*Be careful how you breathe.*
Chi-Long's eyes held him for one more second.
Then they moved back to Eun Byol.
Slowly.
Precisely.
Like a surgeon at an operating table.
She took the ring finger.
Broke it.
Another scream.
Then the pinky.
Broke it.
Another scream.
The forest trembled with the sound.
Birds exploded from the branches, wings beating frantically, escaping the horror below.
Insects scattered.
Leaves shook.
The rain fell harder now, drumming against the canopy, washing over the mud, over Eun Byol's broken hand.
Chi-Long moved to the thumb.
Took it between her fingers.
Bent it back.
Snapped it.
Eun Byol's scream was guttural now.
Primal.
Her whole body convulsed.
Her eyes shot open.
*Pain woke her.*
Not choice.
Not will.
Pain.
A flash of lightning shot through her nerves, igniting every cell, and she screamed and screamed and screamed until her throat was raw and her vision blurred and all she could see was Chi-Long's face above her—pale skin, red lips, dark inhuman robotic eyes, black hair pulled back neatly, perfect and terrifying.
Tears poured down Eun Byol's face.
Hot.
Unstoppable.
Mixing with the rain and the mud and the sweat.
Her brown hair, now black, clung to her face and neck.
Her skin was red and raw where the tracksuit had rubbed.
Her hand—all five fingers broken, twisted at wrong angles—hung limp and useless.
Ha Joon stood frozen.
Like a photograph.
A statue.
Witnessing.
Just witnessing.
Chi-Long moved both of her hands to cover Eun Byol's broken hand.
Red flames burst between her palms.
Eun Byol screamed louder.
The pain was white-hot, searing, unbearable—her broken bones shifted, realigned, fused back together inside a cocoon of fire that felt like it was peeling her skin away layer by layer, burning her from the inside out, and she couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't do anything but scream.
Then it stopped.
Chi-Long removed her hands.
Eun Byol's hand was healed.
No broken bones.
No twisted fingers.
Perfect.
But the pain lingered.
Echoed.
Her body remembered.
Shock and confusion painted Ha Joon's face.
Eun Byol stared at her hand, gasping, trembling.
Chi-Long took the same hand again.
Broke the index finger.
Snap.
Eun Byol screamed.
Broke the middle finger.
Snap.
Another scream.
The trees vibrated.
The tiny droplets hanging from the leaves trembled and fell.
The forest itself recoiled.
Chi-Long broke the ring finger.
The pinky.
The thumb.
Five snaps.
Five screams.
Then fire again.
Red flames.
Searing heat.
Healing.
Chi-Long removed her hands.
The fingers were whole again.
Eun Byol sobbed.
Her whole body shook.
Chi-Long stood.
Looked down at her.
"Get up."
No words beyond that.
No explanation.
No emotion.
Just those two words.
Eun Byol lay there for a moment, gasping, crying, shaking.
Then slowly—so slowly—she moved.
Her hands pressed into the mud.
She pushed herself up.
First to her knees.
Then to her feet.
She swayed.
Almost fell.
But stayed standing.
Her face was pale.
Her eyes were hollow.
But she stood.
Chi-Long turned.
Began walking.
Ha Joon and Eun Byol followed.
Silent.
Broken.
Obedient.
The rain fell soft and gentle around them.
The forest watched.
And they walked.