𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐘. i will go to you like the first snow

THE GARDEN BEHIND THE HOTEL WAS a quiet refuge, untouched by the noise and chaos of the city beyond its wrought-iron gates. Jieun sat alone on a wooden bench nestled beneath a sprawling olive tree, its gnarled branches reaching skyward, framing the dark expanse of the night sky. The stars shimmered above, scattered like silver dust across an infinite canvas, their light soft and cold, reflecting faintly on the neatly trimmed hedges and vibrant blooms that surrounded her.

The air was cool, carrying with it the faint, heady aroma of jasmine mingled with the earthiness of freshly watered soil. A small fountain bubbled softly nearby, its steady rhythm the only sound breaking the silence, save for the occasional rustle of leaves stirred by a gentle breeze.

Jieun had her knees drawn up to her chest, her arms wrapped around them, and her head rested on top, her hands tucked beneath her chin for warmth. She stared blankly at the flowers, their colors muted in the dim light. Roses, hibiscus, and marigolds seemed to blur together, their beauty lost on her tonight.

She felt hollow, her emotions frayed from the relentless cycle of joy and pain that seemed to define her life. One moment, she was basking in happiness, her chest light and full of hope; the next, the weight of sorrow pressed down on her like an unrelenting tide. It was a cruel rhythm, one she was maddeningly familiar with.

Tonight, it left her feeling angry — not just at Zara, or even Robby, but at the universe itself, as if it conspired to keep her teetering on the edge, never allowing her a moment of sustained peace.

Her gaze drifted to a single white rose blooming at the edge of a nearby bush. It stood out among the others, its petals glowing faintly under the starlight, but even its delicate perfection felt like a taunt. She wanted to feel something for it — to admire its beauty or appreciate the resilience of life — but the hollowness within her made it impossible. Instead, she felt numb, her chest heavy with exhaustion.

Jieun closed her eyes for a moment, letting the cool air brush against her face. The tears that had threatened earlier had dried, leaving behind a dull ache that throbbed in her temples. She had cried too much lately, and the thought of shedding more tears felt futile, almost embarrassing.

Her emotions had become a pendulum swinging too violently, and if it kept up, she feared it would lose all meaning.

And yet, despite her attempts to block it out, her mind kept circling back to Zara's words. The insinuations. The smug smirk on her face. The way she had brushed her hand against Robby's arm with such calculated malice. Jieun clenched her fists at the memory, her nails digging into her palms. She had wanted to scream, to demand answers, but the fear of what those answers might be had kept her silent.

But now, sitting here in the garden, away from the prying eyes and oppressive weight of the lobby, her thoughts began to shift. What if Zara wasn't lying? The very idea made her stomach churn, but not for the reasons she had initially thought.

If what Zara had said was true, then Robby hadn't been unfaithful — he had been taken advantage of.

The realization hit her like a punch to the gut, the air leaving her lungs in a shuddering exhale.

Jieun buried her face against her knees, the soft fabric of her jeans pressing against her skin. The thought of Robby being hurt in that way — being used and manipulated — was unbearable. She could picture his face, the vulnerability in his eyes when he had tried to explain himself earlier, the way his shoulders had slumped under the weight of his guilt. He had looked so lost, so broken, and now she understood why.

Her chest tightened, a wave of guilt crashing over her. How could she have doubted him, even for a second? Robby had always been fiercely protective of her, always putting her first. The idea that he could ever betray her was absurd. If Zara's words held any truth, then Robby hadn't been in control of what happened. He was the victim, not the villain.

Jieun let out a shaky breath, her heart aching for him. She imagined him sitting alone somewhere, his thoughts tangled and his emotions raw, and the image made her want to find him, to wrap her arms around him and tell him that none of it was his fault. She wanted to be his safe place, the way he had always been for her.

But she also felt a flicker of anger — not at Robby, but at the situation itself. At Zara, for twisting the truth and turning something painful into a weapon. At herself, for not realizing sooner what was really going on. And at the universe, for once again throwing chaos into their lives just when they had found a moment of happiness.

She opened her eyes, staring blankly at the fountain as the water cascaded down its stone tiers. The sound was soothing, almost hypnotic, but it did little to calm the storm raging inside her. She was tired of feeling powerless, of letting circumstances dictate her emotions.

If the universe was determined to test her, then so be it. She would face it head-on.

Jieun straightened her back slightly, her arms still wrapped around her knees. The night was quiet, the garden a sanctuary, and for the first time in hours, she felt a flicker of clarity. She couldn't change what had happened, but she could decide how to move forward. Robby didn't need her anger or her doubt — he needed her understanding, her support.

She lifted her head, gazing up at the stars. They were distant and cold, but they reminded her that the universe was vast and full of mysteries. Her problems, overwhelming as they seemed, were just a small piece of a much larger puzzle. The thought didn't make the pain go away, but it gave her a sense of perspective, a reminder that even the darkest nights eventually gave way to dawn.

For now, she would sit here, in this quiet garden, and let the night hold her. She would gather her strength, let her emotions settle, and when she was ready, she would find Robby.

Jieun rested her chin back on her knees, her body curled into itself as though she could physically shield herself from the storm inside her.

She had always prided herself on her strength. Competing in the Sekai Taikai had demanded it — strength of body, of will, of mind. She had steeled herself against doubt, against distraction, and against the pressure to succeed, pouring every ounce of her energy into the competition. She'd trained relentlessly, perfecting her techniques, silencing the little voice that whispered she wasn't good enough. She had kept her focus sharp, her resolve unshakable, and when the matches came, she hadn't faltered.

But Zara... Zara had undone all of that in a matter of seconds. With a few calculated words, she had burrowed into Jieun's thoughts, her smirk lingering in Jieun's mind like a ghost. It wasn't just the cruelty of her comments; it was the precision, the way Zara had known exactly where to strike.

She had aimed not at Jieun's abilities or her confidence, but at her heart. And Jieun hated that it had worked.

The worst part was how powerless it made her feel. Jieun had faced opponents who were stronger, faster, and more experienced, but she had always been able to rise to the challenge, to fight back.

Against Zara, there was no kata to master, no counter to block her attacks. Zara's weapon was manipulation, and Jieun felt as though she'd been blindsided, left to stagger under the weight of emotions she couldn't control.

Her mind spiraled, replaying the scene in the lobby over and over again. Zara's smug expression, her hand gliding over Robby's arm, the way her voice had dripped with false sympathy as she mentioned how "vulnerable" Robby had been. Jieun clenched her fists, her nails digging into the denim of her jeans.

Jieun knew she should be stronger than this. She had faced so many challenges, endured so much, and yet here she was, undone by a few cruel words. She hated that Zara had this power over her, that she had allowed herself to be pulled into this spiral of insecurity and pain. But the more she tried to push it aside, the more it consumed her.

And beneath all the anger and frustration was an ache she couldn't ignore — a deep, hollow pain that came from wondering if she had failed Robby. Had she been so focused on herself, on the tournament, that she hadn't noticed his struggles? Had she left him vulnerable to someone like Zara? The thought made her stomach churn, guilt coiling tightly in her chest.

She tilted her head back, staring up at the stars, as though they might offer some kind of answer. They glittered coldly in the vast darkness, unyielding and silent. For a moment, she wished she could be like them — distant, untouchable, immune to the messiness of human emotion. But even as the thought crossed her mind, she knew it wasn't what she wanted. She didn't want to be numb. She didn't want to give up on feeling, no matter how painful it might be.

Her thoughts returned to the tournament, to the discipline and focus she had cultivated to get this far. She had locked in, refusing to let anything distract her from her goal. She had stood tall in the face of every challenge, never backing down, never giving up. That was who she was — a fighter, a competitor, someone who didn't let the world define her.

And yet, Zara's words had cut through all of that. They had pierced the armor Jieun had worked so hard to build, leaving her exposed and raw. She hated how easily Zara had won, how effortlessly she had slipped into Jieun's mind and unraveled her sense of control.

The pain wasn't new. It was an old wound, one that had never quite healed. Jieun had spent so much of her life feeling like she had to prove herself — to Ben, to her teammates, to herself. She had always been afraid of falling short, of not being enough, and Zara's comments had brought all of those fears rushing to the surface.

The stillness of the garden was disrupted by the quiet snap of a stem. Jieun didn't react immediately, her chin still resting on her knees, but when a pale hand emerged in her peripheral vision, offering a single flower, she froze. The hand lingered in front of her face, patient and silent, waiting for her to acknowledge it.

She sighed, expecting to look up and find Robby standing there, his expression sheepish, his presence both unwelcome and oddly comforting. But when her eyes traveled up the length of the arm to the face hovering just above her, she was met not with Robby's familiar features but with Kwon's smug grin.

Jieun groaned, dropping her forehead back onto her knees. "You've got to be kidding me."

Kwon held the flower closer, his grin widening. "You're welcome, by the way. Thought you could use a little beauty in your night."

She scoffed, sitting up straighter and glaring at him. "I need to put a bell on you. You're fucking everywhere. Like a bad penny that keeps showing up, or a stray cat I can't get rid of."

He clutched his chest dramatically, as if her words had pierced him. "Ouch. Straight to the heart. And here I was, thinking I'd be your knight in shining armor tonight."

Jieun rolled her eyes, swatting his hand away as he held the flower closer. "Please. You're more like the annoying stable boy who keeps tracking mud everywhere."

Kwon laughed, clearly enjoying himself. "You know, I'm starting to think you don't like me very much."

"Starting to think?" she shot back, her tone sharp. "Congratulations, Sherlock. You've cracked the case."

His smile faltered just slightly, and for a moment, Jieun thought he might retaliate with one of his trademark cutting remarks. Instead, he tucked the flower behind his ear with an exaggerated flourish and plopped down on the bench beside her.

"What are you doing?" she asked, scooting away from him as though his presence was contagious.

"Sitting," he said simply, leaning back and stretching his arms across the back of the bench. "It's a free garden, isn't it?"

Jieun rolled her eyes, crossing her arms tightly over her knees. "You're annoying, you know that?"

"So I've been told," he replied, his tone light. But his gaze flicked toward her, and she saw the faintest trace of something more serious in his expression.

They sat in silence for a moment, the stars above casting a faint glow over the garden. The flower Kwon had picked dangled from his fingers now, spinning idly as he twirled it between his thumb and forefinger.

Jieun sighed, her annoyance bubbling back to the surface. "Look, it's been a really shitty day, okay? So unless you've got some magical ability to make everything better, i'd appreciate it if you'd just... not."

"Not what?" he asked, tilting his head to the side.

"Not be you," she said bluntly. "Not be an asshole. Not be here, preferably."

He chuckled, though it lacked his usual edge. "Fair enough. But if it helps, I'm not here to be an asshole tonight."

"Oh, lucky me," she muttered, staring back down at the flowers swaying gently in the breeze.

Kwon leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "You know, you're a lot more fun when you're yelling at me. This whole sad, brooding thing? Doesn't suit you."

Jieun scoffed, turning her head to glare at him. "Wow. That's really insightful. Maybe next you can tell me how to live my life, since you seem to have all the answers."

He held up his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, I'm just saying. You're like a firecracker when you're mad. And right now, you're more like... I don't know. A soggy firework that didn't go off."

"Inspirational," she said dryly. But despite herself, she felt a tiny flicker of amusement at his ridiculous analogy.

Kwon's smile softened, the edges of his usual smugness blurring into something gentler. "You don't have to tell me what's wrong," he said, his voice quieter now. "But if you're sitting out here in the middle of the night, staring at flowers like they've personally offended you, something's clearly up."

Jieun frowned, her gaze dropping back to her knees. She hated how easily Kwon could read her, even when she was trying her best to keep him at arm's length. But for once, he wasn't pressing her for answers or baiting her into an argument.

"You don't have to know everything," she said, her voice softer now.

"True," he admitted. "But you looked like you could use some company, even if it's mine."

Kwon didn't say anything else, and for once, Jieun was grateful for his silence. She leaned her head back against the bench, staring up at the stars again. The garden, with its soft blooms and gentle hum of nighttime insects, felt just a little less heavy now.

And though she would never admit it, Kwon's presence — annoying as it was — felt just a little less unbearable.

The stillness of the garden was broken by a heavy sigh beside her, loud enough to drag Jieun out of her spiraling thoughts. She glanced at Kwon, his expression painted with exaggerated exasperation as he leaned back against the bench, running a hand through his hair. The movement was almost theatrical, as though he wanted to ensure she noticed how utterly fed up he was.

"For fucks sake," he muttered, his voice dripping with disdain.

Her brows furrowed at his tone. "What's your problem?"

"My problem?" he snapped, sitting up straighter to look at her, his voice cutting through the soft hum of the garden. He gestured at her, his movements impatient and dramatic. "What the hell are you doing here? Sitting around like some sad cliché, all curled up and pitiful. God, this is pathetic."

Jieun blinked, stunned by the sudden outburst. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," Kwon said, his tone sharp and unforgiving. leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he fixed her with an unrelenting glare. "Look at you. Sitting here, wallowing in... what? Self-pity? Guilt? Whatever it is. This is the Sekai Taikai. Do you get that? Do you know how many people would kill to be where you are right now? And you're sitting here like it's the end of the world because, what, someone said something that hurt your feelings?"

Her stomach tightened, the sting of his words settling deep. She opened her mouth to retort, but no words came out. What could she even say? Her chest tightened, and she clenched her fists against the wave of humiliation and anger rising in her. "You don't know what you're talking about," she hissed, her voice shaking.

"I don't need to know," Kwon shot back, unrelenting. "Because whatever it is, it's not worth this. This sad little pity party you're throwing for yourself? It's embarrassing."  She wanted to yell at him, to tell him to shut up and leave her alone, but his words pressed on, digging deeper. "And you know what? It's not even just about you," he said, his voice dropping into something colder, almost venomous. "If this is the version of you I'm going to have to fight, then I might as well forfeit now, because it's not going to be a challenge. And that? That pisses me off more than anything."

His words hit like a slap, and Jieun stiffened, her breath catching in her throat. Her chest felt like it might cave in. His words were cruel, harsher than anything she'd heard in a long time, but they struck a nerve she couldn't ignore.

"It's not going to be any fun fighting you like this," Kwon muttered, leaning back again and crossing his arms over his chest. "You think I want to go up against someone who's already beaten themselves before the match even starts?" He scoffed, smirking. "So either figure your shit out or don't. But don't waste my time."

Silence fell over them like a shroud, heavy and oppressive. Jieun stared at him, her heart pounding in her chest. She wanted to scream at him, to shove him off the bench, to do something — anything — that would erase the smugness from his face.

But instead, she just sat there, stunned.

And then, like a thread unraveling in her mind, she remembered something. A different time. A different place.

She was seventeen again, curled up on the floor of her bedroom, her heart hollow and aching after her father's funeral. The world had felt so dark then, so unforgiving. She remembered Ben standing over her, his voice harsh and unrelenting as he told her to get up, to stop crying, to stop feeling sorry for herself. He comforted her a little bit, but he also dragged her to her feet and shoved her out the door, forcing her to move, to breathe, to live.

She hated him for it at the time. But it worked.

And now, sitting in the garden with Kwon's cutting words ringing in her ears, she felt that same spark. Small, faint, but unmistakably there.

She exhaled slowly, the tension in her shoulders beginning to ease. Kwon was an asshole, yes. But there was something in his words that she couldn't ignore, something that reminded her of who she was.

She turned her gaze back to the flowers, their petals soft and luminous under the starlight. The garden no longer felt suffocating, no longer a prison of her own making.

Jieun straightened her back, rolling her shoulders as though shrugging off an invisible weight.

And she hadn't realized it, but a small smile began to tug at her lips. It wasn't one born of joy or amusement — it was faint, almost imperceptible, as if it were a secret meant only for her to feel.

It startled her, that smile. Yet here it was, blooming quietly in the corners of her mouth, as if it had been waiting all along for her to remember something important.

Ben's voice echoed in her mind, unbidden and unrelenting. Stop crying. Life's not going to wait for you to pick yourself up. You either get up now or stay down forever — it's your choice. She remembered how harsh he'd been, how his words had grated against her raw grief like sandpaper. She remembered the resentment, the tears that had burned her cheeks, the overwhelming desire to scream at him to just leave her alone.

But she also remembered getting up. Moving. Breathing again.

Ben had been cruel, sometimes needlessly so, but there was a strange comfort in it now, looking back. Because no one else had ever talked to her like that — so blunt, so unapologetically direct. Everyone else had tried to cushion her, to wrap her in soft words and careful gestures. But those words would only stick for a moment.

Kwon's voice had the same sharpness, the same cutting clarity. His words had pierced through the fog of her sadness, igniting a small but determined fire in her chest.

The sound of Kwon scoffing pulled her from her thoughts, the sharp noise breaking the fragile silence. She turned her head slightly to look at him, catching the way his lips curled into a familiar smirk.

"Are you seriously smiling right now?" he asked, his tone laced with disbelief.

The faint smile on her lips hardened into something sharper, more sardonic. "It's just funny that you, of all people, ended up giving advice to your competition. How noble of you."

Kwon rolled his eyes, leaning back against the bench with exaggerated ease. "Don't twist it. It's not advice — it's self-preservation. I don't want to waste my time fighting someone who's already given up. If you're going to lose, at least make it interesting."

Jieun shook her head, the smile lingering despite herself. She stood slowly, brushing off her skirt, and turned to face him fully. Without thinking, she dipped into a shallow bow, the motion instinctive and fluid. It wasn't something she did often anymore, especially not outside of formalities, but it slipped out of her like muscle memory.

Kwon raised an eyebrow at her, his expression teetering between amusement and confusion.

She straightened, ignoring him, and took a step back. The cool night air brushed against her skin, carrying with it the faint scent of blooming flowers and damp earth. She didn't look at him again as she turned and walked away, her steps purposeful and unyielding.

For the first time that evening, she felt clarity. She wasn't sure if it was the result of Kwon's bluntness or the memory of Ben's long-ago words, but something had shifted. The weight on her chest was still there, but it no longer felt insurmountable.

The garden's soft lights faded behind her as she stepped inside the hotel, her thoughts a steady rhythm against the sound of her footsteps.

THE HALLWAY FELT IMPOSSIBLY QUIET, the faint hum of distant conversation and the occasional shuffle of footsteps muted by the weight pressing down on her chest. She stood in front of the door to her hotel room, her hand hovering just above the metal handle. It glinted under the soft glow of the wall sconce, beckoning her to turn it, to cross the threshold and step into whatever awaited her on the other side.

But she hesitated.

Her fingers trembled slightly, poised but unmoving. The air around her felt too still, the moment too fragile. There was a fifty-fifty chance Robby was in there. If he was, it would mean facing the potential fallout of everything Zara had said, everything they hadn't yet talked about. Despite the determination that had carried her through the garden and the long walk back, she felt fear curling low in her stomach, gnawing at her resolve.

What if she couldn't handle the confrontation? What if his explanations unraveled her further instead of stitching her back together? What if she wasn't ready to hear what he had to say — or worse, what if there was nothing to say at all?

Jieun swallowed hard, her throat tight, and forced herself to breathe deeply. Her chest rose and fell with measured control, the cool air filling her lungs and grounding her. Then, before the weight of her thoughts could pin her to the hallway floor, she grasped the handle and turned it.

The door opened slowly, the soft click of the latch releasing reverberating in the quiet. She stepped inside, the muted lighting of the room greeting her with a dim glow. The curtains were drawn, leaving only the faintest hint of moonlight to filter in through the gaps. The air felt heavier here, laden with an unspoken tension that wrapped around her shoulders and held her still.

She closed the door behind her gently, the sound almost imperceptible, but the movement stirred something in the room. From the corner of her eye, she saw him.

Robby shot up from the bed, the sudden motion breaking through the quiet like a crack of thunder. His face was pale, his hair disheveled and sticking up in uneven tufts, as though he'd been clutching at it in frustration. His eyes, wide and bloodshot, met hers, and she froze.

The weight of his gaze was almost unbearable. His red-rimmed eyes looked raw, the kind of redness that came from hours of crying. His face was taut with emotion, every line and angle etched with the unmistakable marks of guilt and anguish. He seemed smaller somehow, his usual confidence stripped away, leaving only the bare bones of a boy who had been broken and was trying desperately to piece himself back together.

Jieun turned fully toward him, her movements slow and deliberate, as though she were approaching something fragile, something that might shatter under the wrong kind of touch. Her eyes roamed over him, taking in the details she hadn't been able to see before.

His hands trembled slightly where they rested on his lap, his fingers twitching as though they didn't know whether to reach for something or remain still. His shoulders slumped under an invisible weight, the tension in his body coiled tight but directionless, as if he didn't know where to place his pain.

Her chest tightened as she looked at him. This wasn't the Robby she was used to. This was someone stripped bare, exposed in a way that made her heart ache in places she hadn't known could still hurt.

The silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating. All she could do was stand there, her heart pounding in her chest, and watch as he sat there on the edge of the bed, lost in whatever storm was raging inside him.

And then, for the briefest moment, he looked away. His gaze dropped to the floor, his lashes fluttering shut as though he couldn't bear to meet her eyes any longer. It was a small, almost imperceptible gesture, but it spoke volumes.

Jieun's breath caught in her throat, her hands clenching at her sides as she tried to steady herself. The room felt unbearably still, the silence pressing down on her like a physical force.

She didn't know how long they stood there like that, locked in a wordless stalemate, but time seemed to bend and stretch, the seconds bleeding into minutes. She thought of all the things she could say to him, all the questions she could ask, but none of them felt right.

Without saying a word, she stepped forward. Her footsteps were soft against the carpet, but each one felt impossibly loud in the stillness of the room. Robby didn't look up until she was standing in front of him, her shadow falling over him. When he did, his expression was a mixture of pain and bewilderment, his red-rimmed eyes searching hers for something she wasn't sure he'd find.

She reached down, taking his hand in hers. It was cool to the touch, his fingers slack and unresponsive for a moment before they curled weakly around hers, as though he didn't quite trust himself to hold on too tightly. Gently, but with purpose, she tugged him and wrapped her arms around him.

Robby melted into her embrace as if every ounce of strength he had left had been holding him upright. His body sagged against hers, his forehead resting on her shoulder, and his hands clung to the back of her shirt with a desperation that made her heart break all over again. She could feel the uneven rhythm of his breathing against her, each inhale shaky and ragged, as though he were trying and failing to keep himself together.

The first tear that fell against her shoulder was warm, a single drop that quickly became a steady flow. Jieun's own tears burned in her eyes as she felt the weight of his grief, his shame, his anguish, all spilling out against her. She didn't try to stop him. Instead, she brought one hand up to the back of his head, her fingers threading through his hair in soothing strokes. The other rested on his back, holding him as tightly as she could without crushing him, as if her embrace could somehow shield him from everything that had hurt him.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of his scattered breathing. The words came out broken, almost a plea, and she said them again, and again, each time a little softer, a little more desperate. "I'm so sorry."

Robby shook his head against her shoulder, his grip on her tightening as though he were afraid she might disappear if he let go. He pulled back just enough to look at her, his eyes glistening with tears that spilled over as quickly as he could blink them away. His lips parted, and he tried to speak, but the words caught in his throat. He swallowed hard, and when he finally managed to speak, his voice was thick with emotion.

"No," he said, his head shaking more firmly now. "I'm sorry. I... I fucked up, Jiji. I —" His voice broke, and he clenched his jaw, forcing himself to steady. "This is on me. I didn't... I should've —"

His words faltered, and he dropped his gaze, but Jieun wasn't having it. She reached up, cupping his face in her hands and forcing him to meet her eyes. Her thumbs brushed gently against his cheeks, wiping away the tears that continued to fall. Her own tears slid down her face, unbidden but unashamed.

"No," she whispered, her voice firm despite the tremor in it. "You didn't do anything wrong. You didn't... You couldn't control what happened."

Robby opened his mouth to argue, but she cut him off, her thumbs pressing just slightly against his skin as though to ground him.

"I'm sorry," she said again, her voice softer now, tinged with a kind of quiet desperation. "I jumped to conclusions. I doubted you when I shouldn't have. I let... I let her get into my head." Her voice cracked on the last word, and she looked down for a moment, her hands falling to her sides. "And that's on me."

Robby's brow furrowed, his hands finding hers and holding them tightly, as if trying to anchor her. "Jiji, don't—"

She looked up, her eyes meeting his again, and there was a kind of raw honesty in her gaze that stopped him mid-sentence.

"I mean it," she said, her voice steady despite the tears that glistened on her cheeks. "This isn't just you, Robby. It's both of us. I should've trusted you, and I didn't. And I'm so, so sorry for that."

Her words hung between them, heavy and fragile all at once. For a moment, neither of them spoke, their breaths mingling in the quiet. Then, slowly, Robby nodded, his lips pressing into a thin line as he fought to keep his composure.

"I didn't handle it right either," he admitted, his voice low but resolute. "I should've told you what was on my mind about Kwon... I should've..." He trailed off, his gaze dropping to their joined hands. "I should've been better."

She shook her head, a small, almost sad smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "You were scared," she said simply, her tone gentle but firm. "And so was I. We both were."

The honesty of her words seemed to take the wind out of him, and he let out a shaky breath, his shoulders sagging slightly. They stood there like that for a long moment, their hands clasped between them, the weight of everything they'd been holding onto slowly lifting.

It wasn't a perfect resolution. There were still questions to be answered, things to be said, and wounds to be healed. But in that moment, under the soft glow of the bedside lamp and the weight of their shared apologies, they found a kind of peace — a tentative step forward, together.

Jieun released his hands, stepping closer once more and wrapping her arms around him. This time, he didn't just melt into her embrace — he held her just as tightly, his arms circling her waist and pulling her close. They stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, their hearts beating in time, their breaths slowly evening out.

When they finally pulled apart, there was a kind of quiet understanding in their eyes. No more tears fell, but their faces were still damp, the evidence of their shared grief and reconciliation etched into their skin.

Jieun reached up, brushing a strand of hair from Robby's face, and smiled — a small, genuine smile that was as much for him as it was for herself.

And Robby smiled back, his lips quirking upward in a way that made her heart feel just a little bit lighter.

HE ARENA WAS ALIVE WITH ANTICIPATION. The stands were already half-filled with spectators, their murmurs rising and falling like the distant sound of waves. Competitors moved in and out of the practice zones, some stretching, others sparring lightly, their movements measured and deliberate as they conserved energy for the battles to come.

Jieun stood near the edge of the mat, her hands planted on her hips, her eyes sharp and calculating as she watched Robby demonstrate a sequence of blocks and counters with Eli. The air around her seemed almost charged, her posture relaxed yet commanding. There was a lightness to her this morning, a quiet confidence that hadn't been there the day before, and it radiated through her every movement. She glanced toward Robby, who nodded at something Eli said, his usual smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

Whatever tension had existed between them yesterday seemed to have dissolved entirely, as if swept away by the tides of the night. They moved easily around each other now, like two parts of a well-oiled machine, the silent understanding between them evident in the way their gazes met for only a fraction of a second before sliding away again.

To everyone watching, it was a striking contrast — how effortlessly they had repaired what had seemed so broken.

Sam watched from the sidelines, her arms crossed as she leaned against the railing. The early morning coolness still lingered, but she felt the warmth of the growing crowd pressing in around her.

Her gaze followed Jieun as she turned and said something to Kenny, who was shadowboxing a few feet away. Kenny paused mid-strike, listening intently, his posture straightening as Jieun pointed out something with a quick gesture. Whatever Jieun said had an immediate effect — Kenny nodded, her movements becoming sharper, more focused.

Sam tilted her head, observing the scene with a mixture of curiosity and something she couldn't quite name. Admiration? Envy?

Jieun moved among the team like a current, subtle but powerful, pulling people toward her without effort. It wasn't flashy or overt; it was in the small, almost imperceptible moments. When Devon stumbled during a warm-up drill a few days ago, Jieun was there, a light pat on her back and a murmured word of encouragement that made Devon's expression shift from frustration to determination. When Sam herself had faltered during their formation practice, Jieun had done the same — a hand on her shoulder, brief but steady, and Sam had felt a strange comfort in it, like a whisper saying, You've got this.

Sam's fingers tightened around the captain headband in her hand, the fabric soft but weighted with responsibility. She'd worn it every match since the tournament began, but now, staring at Jieun, she couldn't help but wonder if it truly belonged to her.

She wasn't just holding the team together — she was elevating them. Even Miguel, who had flown back home unexpectedly a few days prior, had called Jieun to ask for advice on how the team should proceed with Kenny now that he replaced Devon. Sam had overheard parts of the conversation, the way Jieun's voice had been calm and steady as she spoke to him, her confidence radiating even through the crackling speakerphone.

Sam's eyes flicked to Kenny again, watching as the younger fighter mimicked a movement Jieun had demonstrated earlier. There was something almost reverent in the way Kenny followed Jieun's lead, as though he were trying to absorb every ounce of knowledge she had to offer. And he had just showed up.

Sam felt a pang of something close to guilt. She had always considered herself a leader, but watching Jieun now, she wondered if leadership was less about being at the front and more about being the foundation — the thing everyone else could lean on.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden burst of laughter. She turned to see Miguel walking toward the team with his bag slung over his shoulder. Jieun broke into a wide smile, her eyes lighting up as she closed the distance between them and pulled him into a quick hug. Sam watched the way Miguel's shoulders relaxed in Jieun's embrace, the tension from his unexpected trip home seeming to melt away. There was no awkwardness in the gesture, no hesitation — just an easy, genuine warmth that made it clear how much Jieun cared.

Sam's gaze drifted back to the headband in her hands. The fabric felt heavier now, the weight of the decision pressing down on her. She had always thought of herself as the natural choice for captain — she had the experience, the drive, the history with the team. The win.

But leadership wasn't just about those things, was it? It was about presence, about being the person others turned to in their moments of doubt.

And right now, that person wasn't her.

She looked up again, watching as Jieun patted Miguel's back with the same easy affection she'd shown Kenny earlier. For Jieun, it probably wasn't even a conscious gesture — just a natural extension of who she was. But for the people on the receiving end, it meant everything. Sam could see it in the way Demetri straightened after Jieun's encouragement, in the way Miguel smiled more freely after their hug, in the way even Hawk seemed to focus more during his practice session after Jieun had nodded approvingly at his movements.

The crowd in the stands grew louder as the announcer's voice echoed through the arena, signaling the start of the day's matches. Sam clenched the headband tightly for a moment before loosening her grip.

She had a decision to make, and she knew it wasn't just about tradition or titles. It was about what was best for the team. Her fingers brushed over the fabric, the symbols catching the light for a brief moment before she tightened her grip again.

Kenny wiped his brow with the back of his hand, his breath coming in shallow gasps as he reset his stance. His strikes were cleaner now, sharper and more fluid, a marked improvement from the stuttering rhythm he'd shown earlier. Jieun nodded approvingly, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

She raised a hand and gave him a thumbs up, her approval light but sincere. Kenny grinned, his youthful energy bubbling to the surface as he straightened, taking a quick sip from his water bottle before turning toward her.

"Thanks for the tip," he said, still catching his breath. "I think I was overthinking it, you know?"

She shrugged, brushing a stray strand of hair out of her face. "It's what everyone does when they're trying to get it perfect. But you're getting there. Just trust your body — your instincts know more than you think."

Kenny nodded, a thoughtful expression passing over his face. Then, after a moment, his grin returned, sly and a little curious. "So, uh," he began, his tone shifting, "I heard what happened with you and Robby..."

Jieun's head tilted slightly, her eyebrows raising, but before Kenny could elaborate, she cut him off with a small shake of her head. "We're good now," she said simply, her voice calm and even.

That seemed to be enough for Kenny. His grin widened, relief washing over his face like a fresh breeze. "Good," he said, almost too quickly, as if the word carried a weight he hadn't realized until now.

Jieun's eyes narrowed slightly, her curiosity piqued by his reaction. "Why does that matter to you so much?" she asked, crossing her arms loosely over her chest. There was no edge to her tone, just genuine curiosity.

Kenny rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks flushing slightly. "Well," he began, hesitating as if trying to find the right words, "it's just... it's nice to see you two okay. You're important to him, you know? And, uh, to me too, I guess." Her brows knit together, but her expression softened as Kenny continued, his voice becoming quieter, more introspective. "I mean, Robby's always been there for me, ever since he taught me. And you... you've always kind of been there too, even when you weren't, if that makes sense?"

Her lips twitched, threatening to form a smirk. "I'm not sure it does, but go on."

Kenny chuckled nervously, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "Okay, so, do you remember the first time I asked Robby taught me? It was at my house, like, right after school. I didn't know anything — like, anything — and he was showing me how to do a front kick. And he brought you."

Jieun blinked, her mind scrolling back through a hundred similar memories. And then, like the sun breaking through clouds, it hit her. She let out a small laugh, covering her mouth as the moment came back to her in vivid detail. "Oh my god, I forgot about that," she said, her voice lighter now. "You were, what, half his size back then?"

"Hey, I wasn't that small!" Kenny protested, but he was laughing too now, the memory warming the space between them. "But yeah, you came, and I remember you just stood there for a while, watching us. Robby was trying to act all cool about it, but I could tell he was nervous. And then, out of nowhere, you started critiquing his form."

Jieun's laughter deepened, her hand moving to her stomach. "Oh no, I did not..."

"Oh, you totally did," Kenny said, grinning from ear to ear. "You were all, 'Robby, you're not pivoting enough on your back foot,' and 'You're gonna throw your knee out if you keep doing it like that.' And he got so mad — well, not mad, but, you know, Robby-mad, where he just gets all quiet and sulky."

Jieun shook her head, still laughing softly. "I sound insufferable."

"Nah," Kenny said, his tone suddenly serious. "It wasn't like that. You were just... you. And I think that's why he liked having you there. Even when you were calling him out, you made him better. And he liked that."

The laughter in Jieun's chest faded, replaced by a quiet warmth. She hadn't thought about that day in years, but hearing Kenny talk about it now, she could see it so clearly — the way Robby had kept glancing at her, his frustration tempered by a faint smile he couldn't quite hide. She hadn't realized it then, but maybe Kenny was right. Maybe she had made him better. Or maybe he had made her better. It was hard to tell where one ended and the other began.

Kenny's voice broke through her thoughts, softer now but no less earnest. "You guys suit each other, you know that?"

Jieun turned to look at him, her expression unreadable. "Do we?" she asked, her tone almost teasing, but there was a note of vulnerability beneath it, like she wasn't sure she wanted to hear the answer.

Kenny nodded, his gaze steady. "Yeah, you do. I mean, I don't know everything about relationships or whatever, but... you balance each other out. You push each other to be better. And that's what it's all about, right?"

Jieun didn't respond right away. Instead, she looked past Kenny, her eyes tracing the lines of the arena as the early sunlight spilled across the mats. The air smelled faintly of sweat and floor polish, and the sounds of practice echoed softly in the background — grunts of effort, the slap of bare feet on padded floors. It was a familiar chaos, grounding in its own way.

They all moved into formation, her feet shifting slightly on the mat to find the perfect balance between stability and readiness. Around her, the clapping began, a rolling wave of sound that grew louder as the announcer's voice boomed through the space.

"Top eight dojos, welcome to our final group event."

Gunther's voice carried authority, cutting clean through the din of the crowd. Jieun stood still, her hands relaxed at her sides, but her eyes flicked over the room, taking in every detail — the familiar sharp colors of her team's uniforms, the tight but focused expressions of her peers, and the ripple of excitement moving through the spectators.

"Over the course of the tournament," Gunther continued, pacing across the stage, "you have each proven yourselves worthy of your place atop the leaderboard. And after today, only the best of the best will gain entry into our Tournament of Champions."

The crowd erupted into cheers, but Jieun barely heard it. Her focus was razor-sharp, locked on the announcer as he outlined the rules. She caught the movement out of the corner of her eye — a subtle shift to her left — and turned her head ever so slightly. Not far from where she stood was the Cobra Kai formation, their black uniforms stark against the light of the arena. And there, at the beginning of the line, was Tory.

Tory Nichols stood still, her arms loose at her sides, but her face betrayed her usual stoic demeanor. She was staring directly at Jieun. It wasn't the sharp, defiant look that Jieun had come to expect from her. This was different. Tory's expression was strained, almost troubled. There was something desperate in her eyes, a quiet urgency that seemed to claw at her from within, like a message she couldn't quite deliver. For a fleeting moment, Jieun felt her own breath hitch, the weight of that unspoken message settling uncomfortably in her chest.

But she shook it off. Whatever Tory had to say — or thought she had to say — would have to wait. Jieun turned her attention back to the announcer just as Gunther raised his hand, signaling for silence.

"Now, here are the rules for this round," he declared. "Each team will face three opponents, determined by random draw, in an all-dojo tag team competition!"

The clapping swelled again, louder this time, accompanied by murmurs of excitement and speculation. Jieun's team shuffled slightly in anticipation, their movements almost imperceptible but enough to betray their eagerness. She kept her own stance firm, steady, her gaze fixed on Gunther as he continued.

"Two fighters inside the ring at a time — one from each dojo. The other ten fighters remain outside, waiting to be tagged in by their teammate. Fighting will be continuous. No stoppages, no timeouts. So use your teammates wisely. The first dojo to score three points wins the match. By the end of today, your captains will either be fighting in the Tournament of Champions or be eliminated, watching from the sidelines."

"May the best dojos win."

The crowd roared, their cheers blending into a cacophony of anticipation. Jieun's heart pounded in her chest, the rhythmic thrum syncing with the energy of the arena. She glanced again toward Tory, but the other girl had turned away, her focus now on her own team. Whatever had been written on her face moments ago was gone, replaced by the practiced coolness of a fighter preparing for battle.

She turned back to her own team as they huddled briefly to finalize their order. Robby stepped forward, his voice low but confident as he laid out their strategy. "We stick to what we know," he said. "Remember to tag Miguel or Jiji if we're up against anyone tricky. Demetri, you're first. Then we'll rotate depending on the matchups."

Everyone nodded, their trust in Robby's leadership evident in the way they moved without hesitation.

The air in the arena was thick with expectation as Miyagi-Do faced off against Furia de Pantera. The opposing team stood confidently, their dark uniforms cutting sharp lines against the brightly lit mat. Furia was known for their precision, their unrelenting pace, and their ability to exploit any weakness without hesitation.

As Jieun took her place among her teammates, she glanced at Demetri, the first to step forward. His face was set with determination, but she caught the faintest flicker of pride in his posture, the way he squared his shoulders and puffed out his chest. It sent a ripple of unease through her.

The bell rang, signaling the start of the match. Demetri moved quickly, his strikes sharp and controlled, his defense solid. At first, it seemed like he had the upper hand. His opponent stumbled under the force of his blows, and a few well-placed counters sent the crowd into a frenzy of cheers. Jieun's lips pressed into a thin line as she watched, willing him to stay focused. But she could see it already — how the thrill of dominance was beginning to take hold of him, how his movements became less calculated and more driven by ego.

Demetri didn't tag out.

The rest of the team stood tense at the edge of the mat, their hands hovering over the ropes, ready to jump in. Sam called out to him, her voice clear and sharp, but he waved her off, grinning as he landed another hit. The Furia fighter stumbled again but recovered quickly, their expression hardening with resolve. Jieun's stomach churned as she saw what was coming.

The counterstrike was brutal. A clean sweep to Demetri's legs sent him crashing to the mat, the sound echoing in the sudden hush of the arena. The referee signaled the point, his flag raised high. Furia de Pantera: one. Miyagi-Do: zero.

Demetri groaned, clutching his side as he crawled toward the edge of the mat. His pride was gone, replaced by a grimace of pain and frustration. He reached out and tagged Sam, his hand slapping against hers before he rolled onto his back, gasping for breath.

Sam hesitated for only a moment, her confusion flashing briefly across her face before she stepped into the ring. Her movements were fluid, precise, the culmination of years of training. Where Demetri had faltered in arrogance, Sam thrived in discipline. She faced down the two Furia fighters with a quiet ferocity, her strikes deliberate and unrelenting.

Jieun watched as Sam turned the tide. A sharp kick to the chest sent one Furia fighter sprawling, followed by a perfectly timed roundhouse that forced the second to retreat. The crowd erupted as the referee signaled Miyagi-Do's first point. Sam stepped back, her chest heaving, and scanned the lineup for her next move.

Without hesitation, she tagged Eli.

Eli's entry into the ring was met with roaring approval. The former champion moved with a speed and agility that had earned him his reputation. His strikes were swift, his blocks seamless, and for a moment, it seemed like Miyagi-Do might take control. But as the match wore on, Jieun noticed the subtle hesitation in his movements, the way he glanced toward the edge of the mat where Kenny stood waiting.

Eli was faltering.

Jieun's jaw clenched as she realized what was happening. Demetri's earlier words to Eli about Kenny being a spy had taken root, festering into doubt. It was absurd, infuriating, and entirely counterproductive, especially now when the team needed unity more than ever. She could see the indecision in Eli's stance, the way his eyes darted between his opponent and the line of waiting teammates.

"Tag out," Jieun muttered under her breath, the words almost a growl.

But Eli didn't move. He hesitated, his hand hovering as if unsure whether Kenny could be trusted. Finally, and to Jieun's disbelief, he turned away from Kenny and tagged Robby instead.

Robby entered the ring with an expression of surprise that mirrored the confusion rippling through the rest of the team. He moved quickly to face his opponent, but the transition had cost them precious momentum. The Furia fighter wasted no time exploiting the lapse, landing a series of strikes that forced Robby onto the defensive.

Jieun's fists tightened at her sides as she watched Robby struggle to regain control. He fought back valiantly, his movements strong and deliberate, but the earlier hesitation had shifted the energy of the match. When he finally saw an opening, he sprinted toward the edge of the mat, his hand outstretched to tag Miguel.

It happened in an instant.

A Furia fighter's kick connected with Robby's arm just before he could make the tag. The force of the blow sent him stumbling, and the referee's flag went up once more. Furia de Pantera: two. Miyagi-Do: one.

The crowd's cheers blurred into a cacophony of sound as Jieun's vision narrowed. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears, a steady drumbeat of frustration and anger. She barely registered the final moments of the match, her focus splintered by the chaos unfolding on the mat. Robby rallied, refusing to back down, his movements fueled by sheer determination. But the Furia fighters were relentless, their coordination impeccable.

The last point came with a devastating blow, a spinning kick that left Robby sprawled on the mat. The referee's flag went up for the final time, and the announcement echoed through the arena: "Furia de Pantera wins!"

Jieun's heart sank as she heard the follow-up: "Miyagi-Do's loss puts them on the verge of elimination after their first match."

The team stepped off the mat in silence, their expressions a mix of exhaustion and disappointment. Jieun fell into step beside Sam, her gaze fixed on the ground as they returned to their corner. Around them, the arena buzzed with activity, but the weight of the loss hung heavy over their group.

The tournament was slipping through their fingers, and Jieun was determined not to let it go without a fight.

The team's energy was tense and fractured as they moved from the mat to a quiet corner of the arena. Disappointment clung to the group like a heavy fog, thick and suffocating, muting the sounds of cheering crowds and the distant hum of announcers preparing for the next round. Jieun stayed near the edge of the circle, her arms crossed over her chest, observing the undercurrent of frustration that ran through each of them. It wasn't long before Miguel, with his usual assertiveness, broke the silence.

"Eli," he started, his voice sharp with frustration, "why didn't you tag in Kenny when you had the chance?"

The accusation hung in the air, cutting through the thick fog of disappointment like a blade.

Eli, his arms crossed and his jaw set, met Miguel's gaze with a scoff. "He just got here," Eli snapped, his tone defensive. "You expect us to trust him already?"

The weight of the words settled heavily on the group. Kenny, standing a few feet away, furrowed his brows in disbelief. His stance stiffened, the tension in his shoulders making his frame seem smaller, yet more resolute.

"Trust me to what?" Kenny said, his voice rising in anger, his expression a mix of hurt and defiance. "Not get my ass kicked like you and Demetri?"

Demetri, his pride still raw from his earlier defeat, turned sharply toward Kenny. His face flushed with irritation, his fists clenching at his sides. "Like you'd do any better against Spanish Hawk?" he shot back, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "You completely disappeared after the Shittening, and then you coincidentally come back the same time as Silver."

The mention of Silver acted like a spark in dry timber, igniting the conversation into something dangerously close to a full-blown argument. Demetri gestured wildly, his frustration now boiling over as he turned to face the rest of the group.

"You really want to tag in a mole?" Demetri's voice carried a note of incredulity, as if the very idea was absurd beyond comprehension.

"Are you serious?" Kenny shot back, his voice shaking with anger. His words came fast now, heated and unfiltered. "I fly all the way here to help us win, and you won't even give me a chance? Everyone laughed at me in the woods, but somehow, I'm the bad guy now, right?"

The bitterness in his words hung in the air, unacknowledged but palpable. Eli, unwilling to back down, threw his hands up in exasperation. "See?" Eli said, stepping forward, his voice cutting through Kenny's like a sharp blade. "He's still pissed. It makes sense he'd want revenge."

Kenny's anger reached its boiling point. His steps were deliberate as he moved closer to Eli, his fists clenched and his breathing shallow. "Say something, you —"

Before the tension could explode into violence, Robby stepped between them, his presence immediately commanding attention. His movements were deliberate but calm, his hands raised in a silent plea for peace.

"Hey!" Robby barked, his voice loud and clear, breaking through the argument like a thunderclap. "This isn't about Kenny."

His tone carried a note of self-recrimination, his words cutting through the tension and turning the blame inward. "I'm the one who lost the match. Me."

The group froze, their collective anger momentarily dissipated by Robby's admission. He didn't wait for a response. Instead, he pushed past Kenny and Eli, his movements decisive as he walked away from the group, his shoulders heavy with the weight of his own guilt.

Everyone stared after him, the silence that followed ringing louder than their earlier argument. Jieun, standing on the edge of the group, felt her heart twist. Her first instinct was to follow Robby, to try and mend what was clearly broken. But as she took a step forward, Miguel gently touched her arm, his expression calm but resolute.

"I'll handle it," he muttered, his voice low but firm.

Jieun hesitated, her eyes flicking between Miguel and Robby's retreating figure. Slowly, she nodded, stepping back as Miguel moved past her to follow his friend.

The group was left standing in uneasy silence, the weight of their fractured unity settling over them like a shadow.

Jieun took a sharp breath, her fists trembling at her sides as she watched Miguel disappear in the direction Robby had gone. The air around her felt thick, charged with the lingering tension of the argument, and she turned her gaze slowly toward Demetri and Eli, who were standing together with the defiance of children caught misbehaving but unwilling to admit their wrongdoing. Their postures were stiff, their expressions defensive, and it only fueled the fire burning in her chest.

Her voice, when she spoke, was cold and biting, slicing through the uneasy silence like a knife.

"What the hell is wrong with you two?" she hissed, her words sharp and deliberate, each one landing like a slap. "Did you even think for a second before you opened your mouths, or do you just speak whatever garbage pops into your heads?"

Demetri flinched, his eyes darting to Eli as if looking for support, but Eli's jaw was set in a defensive line, though his shoulders were beginning to creep toward his ears. Jieun's eyes narrowed, her fury zeroing in on them with precision.

"Demetri," she snapped, turning her attention fully to him. "You're supposed to be smart, right? That's your whole thing? So tell me, where's the brilliance in accusing Kenny of being a mole in front of everyone? Did you think that would help us? Did you think that would make us stronger as a team?" Demetri opened his mouth to respond, but she cut him off with a derisive laugh that carried no humor, only disdain. "No, don't answer that," she said, waving a hand dismissively. "We all know you didn't think at all. You just let your bruised ego do the talking because you couldn't handle the fact that you screwed up. But sure, blame Kenny. That's a great look for you."

Demetri's face flushed deep red, and he looked down at the floor, his hands fidgeting nervously. Jieun didn't let up.

"And you," she said, turning on Eli now, her voice like ice. "What's your excuse? Too busy trying to relive your glory days as Hawk to realize you're sabotaging the very people you're supposed to trust? Or are you just too cowardly to admit that you're wrong about Kenny and now you're doubling down out of sheer stupidity?"

Eli's eyes widened, his lips parting as if to retort, but no words came out. Jieun's glare bore into him, unrelenting.

"You stood there," she continued, her voice rising with indignation, "debating whether to tag in a teammate because you listened to Demetri's paranoid delusions instead of using your own brain. Do you have any idea how pathetic that is? No wonder we lost. You two are so busy sabotaging each other, you didn't even stop to think about what it's doing to the rest of us."

Her words hung in the air, heavy and cutting. Both Demetri and Eli looked like they wanted the ground to swallow them whole. Eli's defensive stance had melted into something smaller, more subdued, and Demetri was practically cowering under her glare.

Jieun took a step closer, her voice dropping to a low, dangerous tone that made both boys flinch. "Let me make one thing perfectly clear," she said, enunciating each word with precision. "If we go home after this, if we're eliminated, it won't be because Kenny's a mole or because Robby lost his footing. It'll be because of you two." She let the accusation linger, her eyes flicking between them with a look of pure disdain.

With that, she turned on her heel and stalked away, her footsteps echoing sharply against the polished floor. The tension she left in her wake was suffocating, a heavy silence that pressed down on the team like a lead blanket.

Demetri and Eli stood frozen, their expressions a mixture of shame and discomfort, neither one daring to speak. The rest of the team glanced between them and the direction Jieun had gone, uncertain how to bridge the chasm that had suddenly opened between them.

But Jieun didn't look back. Her anger propelled her forward, her mind racing with frustration and disappointment. She could feel the heat in her chest, the tightness in her throat, but she pushed it down, focusing instead on the sound of her own footsteps. Each step felt like a punctuation mark, a reminder to herself that she wouldn't let their stupidity drag her down.

And as she walked, she allowed herself one bitter, satisfying thought: if they failed, if they were eliminated, at least she'd know it wasn't her fault.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

omg... only 1 update??? are y'all surprised

i had to sleep LOL

but also someone said i was really pushing these chs out fast and i was like damn is this /pos or /neg (╥﹏╥)

but anyways,

jiji is back to being happy !! who else cheered!!!

i know i tend to make jiji miserable after being happy, and i know it must be frustrating as the reader but it was kind of unavoidable based off the show like how else was i supposed to make robby screw up so many times in the beginning, or make jiji get her villain arc in time for the brawl

;don't answer that bc ill be jealous of y'alls more creative brains;

but ofc i needed them to make up, and in a very healthy way i think!!! bc i did want jiji to feel a lil guilty about her actions too, bc lets be real, she is sort of in the wrong even though WE know zara lied, jiji doesn't.

btw did y'all catch that subtle foreshadowing or did u miss it (๑•̀؂ <๑)✧

wont say where

also jiji clocking demetri and eli? YEAH OUR GIRL IS BACK !!!!

and did we like the kwon and jiji moment?? i do really want them to be friends, i think it'd be out of character if jieun WASN'T sort of friendly to her competition. LOL !!! and i thought i wrote kwon pretty spot on,

like his whole "girl u better get ur shit together bc i wanna fight u at ur best" speech

and miss jieun TOOK THAT SHIT!

ps. been sneaking in a lot of ben moments huh?

wink wink

much love,