𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐘-𝐓𝐖𝐎. timeless warmth

JIEUN WAS STILL RIDING THE HIGH of victory. But it wasn't just the win — it was the moment itself, the rush of adrenaline that surged through her body, making her feel invincible, as though the world could crumble around her and she'd still be standing. She had never felt so alive.

The echo of the crowd's cheers still rang in her ears as she made her way to the locker room, her footsteps light and unburdened. A triumphant smile lingered on her face, her lips curved upward like a reflex she couldn't shake.

But as soon as she stepped inside, the atmosphere shifted.

The smile slid from Jieun's lips as if gravity had pulled it away. She paused mid-step, unsure whether to retreat or announce her presence. Her heart thudded, the adrenaline dissipating into something more subdued, more complicated.

She froze, her hand still on the door. The atmosphere in the room was starkly different from the arena, the sharp contrast almost dizzying. The muted lighting painted the walls in drab shades, and the faint hum of the fluorescent bulbs buzzed against her senses. Tory didn't move, her shoulders hunched and her fingers gripping her hair as though she were trying to keep her head from splitting open.

The celebratory bubble Jieun had been floating in burst, replaced by a thick, awkward tension. She cleared her throat softly, a deliberate cough to announce her presence.

Tory's head snapped up, her face a mix of shock and annoyance. "What are you doing here?" she said, her voice low but cutting. Then she scoffed, leaning back on the bench with an exaggerated slouch. "Let me guess. Came to rub it in?"

Jieun blinked, genuinely startled. Gloating hadn't even crossed her mind. She tilted her head, crossing her arms. "Do I look like I have the energy to gloat? I can barely lift my arms after that match."

Tory snorted, her lips quirking up in a reluctant smirk. "Could've fooled me. You've always been annoyingly good at multitasking." She rolled her eyes as she stepped fully into the room.

She then sat down on the bench beside her. They fell into a familiar rhythm of banter, the kind that felt like slipping into an old, worn jacket — comfortable and warm, despite the rips and stains.

For a few minutes, it was easy to forget everything that had happened between them. The fractured friendship, the betrayals, the painful choices they had both made. Here, in the quiet of the locker room, it felt like they were just Jieun and Tory again. Two girls who had once been inseparable, laughing at each other's terrible jokes and sharing secrets like they were pieces of treasure.

But the weight of the present was never far away. It hung in the air between them, a ghost of their shared history.

Jieun hesitated, the words forming in her mind before she even realized she wanted to say them. "Hey," she started softly, her tone shifting.

Tory raised an eyebrow, her smirk fading. "What?"

"Thank you," Jieun said, her voice steady but quiet.

Tory blinked, her confusion evident. "For what? Letting you beat my team into the ground? Real generous of me."

Jieun shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. "No. Not for that."

Tory furrowed her brows, leaning forward slightly. "Then what are you talking about?"

Jieun met her gaze, the air between them suddenly heavy with unspoken meaning. "For the Zara thing," she said simply.

Tory stiffened, her face blank for a moment as she processed the name. Then understanding dawned, and her expression softened. "Oh," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"And for Robby," Jieun added, her voice cracking slightly. She cleared her throat and continued. "For guiding him back to the hotel that night. I didn't... I couldn't..."

Tory waved a hand, cutting her off. "Stop. You don't have to say it."

"But I do," Jieun insisted, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "You didn't have to do any of that. You didn't have to care, but you did. And I... I never got to thank you for it."

Tory looked down at her hands, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve. "It wasn't a big deal," she muttered, but there was a tremor in her voice that gave her away.

"It was to me," Jieun said firmly. She leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees as she tried to catch Tory's eye. "You've always been that person, you know? The one who acts like she doesn't care but always does. You're the one who steps up when it really matters, even if no one notices."

Tory glanced up, her eyes glistening. "You noticed," she said quietly.

"Of course I did," Jieun said, her voice softening. "How could I not?"

For a moment, they just sat there, the silence between them heavy but not uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that spoke volumes, filled with all the things they couldn't quite say.

Finally, Tory exhaled, shaking her head with a small smile. "You're such a sap," she said, her tone teasing but not unkind.

She laughed, the sound light and genuine. "Yeah, well, someone's gotta be."

The silence lingered between them, heavy yet fragile, as if the wrong word could shatter the tentative peace they'd managed to create. Jieun leaned back on the bench, her hands resting on her knees, her gaze fixed on Tory. It was rare to see Tory this vulnerable, her usual sharp edges softened, her guard lowered just enough to let her true self peek through.

Tory rubbed at her temples, exhaling a shaky breath before looking up at Jieun. "You know," she began, her voice low and uneven, "I've been thinking about this moment for months. What I'd say if we ever got to talk like this again." Jieun tilted her head, waiting, her silence an invitation rather than a barrier. "I just —" Tory stopped, clenching her fists. "I'm sorry. God, I'm so sorry." Jieun opened her mouth, but Tory held up a hand, shaking her head. "No, let me finish. Please. I've been holding this in for too long."

Jieun closed her mouth, nodding, her throat tightening.

"I missed you," Tory said, the words tumbling out in a rush. "I missed you so much it felt like... like there was this hole in my chest, and no matter what I did, I couldn't fill it. I thought I'd be fine, you know? That I'd figure it out, that maybe I didn't need anyone, not even you. But I was wrong. So wrong."

Jieun swallowed hard, her chest tightening as she watched Tory's expression twist with regret.

"I had no one," Tory continued, her voice cracking. "No one to talk to. Not about real stuff, anyway. The others... they're not exactly the kind of people you can pour your heart out to. It's all about winning, about being tough. And yeah, I wanted that. I needed to feel tough after everything. But I didn't realize how lonely it would be."

Jieun's lips parted, but the words caught in her throat. She could feel the weight of Tory's loneliness, the ache of it so palpable it seemed to seep into the room.

"And you," Tory went on, her eyes shimmering, "you were always there for me. When my love life was in shambles, when things got bad at home... you were the one who held me together. You never judged me, even when I was a mess. And what did I do? I left." Jieun shook her head, but Tory pressed on. "I thought Cobra Kai would fix me. I thought it would make me strong enough to handle everything. But it didn't. All it did was push me further away from the few people who actually gave a damn about me."

Tory's voice broke, and she laughed bitterly, wiping at her eyes. "I'm such an idiot. I kept telling myself I was doing what was best for me, but all I did was hurt the people who mattered most."

Jieun's heart ached, a deep, familiar pain that she'd carried ever since Tory had walked away from them. But it wasn't anger that filled her now. It was understanding. "Tory," she said softly, leaning forward, "I know exactly what you were going through. After my dad died, I felt the same way. Like I had to find something — anything — that would make me feel strong enough to survive. And if Cobra Kai felt like that for you, then that's valid. You did what you thought was best for yourself."

Tory's eyes widened, her lips trembling as Jieun continued.

"I'm not gonna lie," Jieun said, her voice quieter now. "At the beginning, I was mad. I was so mad. I couldn't understand why you left, why you didn't just... talk to me. But then I realized that's what I would've done. I would've shut everyone out and tried to handle it on my own."

Tory blinked, her brows furrowing. "But you didn't. When your dad died, you talked to me."

"And that's why I couldn't stay mad at you," Jieun said, her voice thick with emotion. "You were there for me, Tory. You listened to me when no one else could. You let me fall apart and didn't judge me for it. I've always felt like I owed you for that."

"You don't owe me anything," Tory said fiercely, her voice rising. "You were my best friend, Tweety. That's what best friends do."

Jieun smiled faintly, a bittersweet curve of her lips. "Exactly. And that's why I just wish you'd confided in me. The way I did with you."

Tory bit her lip, her hands trembling as she clutched the edge of the bench. "I didn't want to burden you. You were dealing with your own stuff, and I thought... I thought I could handle it on my own. But I couldn't. And I'm so sorry. For leaving, for shutting you out, for everything."

Jieun reached out, hesitating for a moment before placing a hand on Tory's knee. "Hey," she said softly. "You don't have to keep apologizing. We're here now, aren't we?"

Tory looked down at Jieun's hand, her shoulders shaking as she let out a choked laugh. "Yeah," she said, her voice barely audible. "We are."

For a long moment, they sat in silence, the weight of their shared history settling between them. But it wasn't a bad weight. It was heavy, yes, but it was also grounding.

Tory leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. She glanced at Jieun, her expression more serious now. "I mean it, though," she said softly. "I really did miss you. It was weird not having you around to keep me in check."

"Not having me around to tell you when you're being an idiot, you mean," Jieun corrected with a small smirk.

"Exactly," Tory said, smiling faintly. Then, without warning, she leaned in and pulled Jieun into a hug.

The suddenness of it caught Jieun off guard, her body tensing for a moment before she relaxed into the embrace. Tory's arms were tight around her, her chin resting on Jieun's shoulder. It wasn't a perfect hug — Tory wasn't exactly the hugging type — but it was real. Honest.

Jieun raised her arms and wrapped them around Tory, giving her a gentle squeeze. The hug was warm, grounding, and it felt like something unspoken but deeply meaningful passed between them in that moment.

THE LOBBY OF THE HOTEL BUZZED with a mixture of excitement and finality. Groups of competitors and coaches milled about, some packing up their bags, others exchanging farewells. The energy was chaotic yet subdued, the adrenaline of the tournament replaced by an ache of exhaustion and bittersweet camaraderie.

Jieun and Robby sat on one of the plush leather sofas near the far corner, partially tucked away from the hustle and bustle. The early morning sunlight streamed through the tall windows, casting long shadows across the marble floor. Jieun's hand rested lightly on Robby's, her fingers tracing absentminded patterns along his knuckles. Their voices were soft, almost conspiratorial, as they leaned in toward each other.

"So," Jieun murmured, her thumb brushing the back of his hand, "what do you think? More agility drills? Or should we double down on speed?"

"Both," Robby replied, his lips curving into a small smile. "You know my dad is gonna push for sparring, though. He's obsessed with going full contact."

Jieun chuckled under her breath. "Yeah, well, your dad's idea of 'sparring' is basically a street fight."

"And somehow, we survive it," Robby teased, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. His eyes lingered on her face, and there was a quiet admiration in his gaze. "You really think we can do this?"

"We've already made it this far," Jieun said, her voice firm. "The finals are just another match. We train hard, we stay focused, and we win. Simple."

Their quiet conversation was interrupted by the sudden appearance of a looming figure. Kwon stood before them, his arms crossed and his posture stiff. His face was mottled with fresh bruises from the match the day before, a dark shadow under one eye and a scrape across his cheekbone. His jaw was tight, and his narrowed eyes were fixed squarely on Jieun.

Jieun didn't flinch. She leaned back slightly, her fingers still curled around Robby's, and raised a single brow. "Well, if it isn't Cobra Kai's finest," she drawled. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Kwon's lips curled into a sneer. "Don't act so smug," he snapped. His voice was low, but the fury in it was palpable. "You got lucky yesterday. That's all it was."

Jieun tilted her head, her expression calm but laced with sharp amusement. "Luck?" she repeated, her tone dripping with disbelief. "That's the story you're going with?"

"You heard me," Kwon bit out. "You didn't beat me because you're better. I've never lost before, and I'm not about to start thinking it's because some second-rate dojo fighter had actual skill."

Robby shifted beside her, his grip on her hand tightening, but Jieun gave him the faintest shake of her head. She wasn't going to get up, wasn't going to meet Kwon's anger with anything but her words. She wanted him to stew in his frustration, to feel the sting of her composure.

"Second-rate dojo fighter," she repeated, her lips curving into a slow, taunting smile. "Funny. Last I checked, the scoreboard didn't say 'luck.' It said 'Miyagi-Do advances.' Or do numbers confuse you as much as footwork?"

Kwon's nostrils flared, and his fists clenched at his sides. "Watch your mouth."

"Or what?" Jieun asked coolly. She hadn't raised her voice, but the steel in her tone was unmistakable. "You're going to hit me here? In front of all these people? Is that how Cobra Kai handles losing? Because if it is, I'd be more than happy to let everyone know."

"You don't know anything about me," Kwon snapped. "You think just because you landed a few cheap shots, you're better than me? You're not. You'll never be."

Jieun laughed, a soft, incredulous sound. "You mean the ones that left you on the mat gasping for air? Or the ones that had the referee raising my hand? If that's what you call 'cheap,' then maybe you need to revisit your dojo's definition of 'no mercy.'"

Kwon's face darkened, his shoulders tensing as if he were about to lunge forward. Robby straightened slightly, his free hand flexing at his side, but Jieun remained seated, utterly unbothered.

"Sitting there acting like you're untouchable. I could've crushed you if I'd wanted to." Kwon spat.

"Then why didn't you?" Jieun countered, her voice like ice. "What stopped you, Kwon? Was it the fear of losing in front of everyone? Or was it the realization that you're not as unstoppable as you thought?"

"You're just a —"

"A what?" Jieun interrupted, her eyes flashing. "Say it. Go ahead. Call me whatever you want. It doesn't change the fact that you lost. To me. And now you have to live with that."

The weight of her words hung in the air, thick and unyielding. Kwon's jaw worked as if he were grinding his teeth, his fury barely contained. "You think you're so special," he said finally, his voice low and venomous. "But you're not. You're just another fighter. And when we meet again, I'll make sure you regret every word you've said today."

Jieun leaned forward slightly, her gaze locked onto his. "Bring it," she said softly. "Because if there's one thing I've learned, it's that nothing motivates me more than people like you."

The moment was supposed to end with Kwon walking away, his frustration simmering as he retreated into the crowd of athletes and coaches mingling in the lobby. Jieun had been ready to lean back against the plush sofa, let her grip on Robby's hand loosen, and feel the quiet satisfaction of standing her ground. But Kwon wasn't finished. His footsteps stopped abruptly, his shadow looming over her again, and before she could even roll her eyes, he turned back with a scowl etched deep into his bruised face.

"Oh, and one more thing," Kwon sneered, his voice slicing through the air. "You might've beaten me, but don't think for a second you'll do the same to Zara." Jieun stiffened, the mention of Zara twisting something sharp in her chest. "You're going to watch her win," Kwon continued, leaning closer, his presence suffocating. "And after she does, she'll celebrate it with her boyfriend. You know him, right? The one she'll steal from you?"

The words hung in the air like a slap, sharp and humiliating. For a moment, everything else in the lobby seemed to fade — the chatter of the other dojos, the clinking of luggage wheels against the marble floor, even Robby's steady hand in hers. All she could hear was the blood pounding in her ears and Kwon's smug, venomous voice repeating itself in her mind.

Robby's hand tightened around hers, his entire body going rigid beside her. She didn't have to look at him to know what he was about to do; she could feel the heat of his anger radiating through his grip. His other hand flexed at his side, his posture coiling like a spring, ready to snap.

He surged to his feet, towering over Kwon in an instant. "Say that again," Robby said, his voice deadly quiet. It was the kind of quiet that made Jieun nervous because it wasn't his usual brand of sharp, quick-witted comebacks. It was the quiet that came before the explosion.

Kwon smirked, unfazed. "What? That Zara's going to humiliate your girlfriend in front of the entire world?"

The sound of a sharp, commanding voice cut through the escalating tension. "Kwon!"

All three of them turned toward the source of the interruption. Sensei Kim stood a few paces away, her expression thunderous and her hands clenched at her sides. The rest of the lobby seemed to shrink back at her presence, as if even those uninvolved could feel the storm brewing.

"Kwon," she repeated, her voice sharp enough to carve through steel. "Enough."

"But —"

"I said enough!" Kim's tone was unwavering, brooking no argument. She stalked toward them, her heels clicking against the marble, her eyes blazing with a fury that could rival Kwon's. "Do you think this behavior is acceptable? We've already been disgraced enough as it is. And now you're making it worse by throwing tantrums in public like a child?"

The color drained from Kwon's face, his bravado crumbling under the weight of her scolding. "Sensei, I —"

"Not another word," Kim snapped. Her gaze was unforgiving as she jabbed a finger toward the exit. "Go. Now. We're leaving."

Kwon's jaw tightened, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. For a moment, it seemed as though he might argue, but the fire in Daeun's eyes was enough to extinguish whatever defiance lingered in him. With a low growl of frustration, he turned on his heel and stalked toward the lobby doors, his steps echoing in the tense silence that followed.

Jieun exhaled, her shoulders slumping slightly as she watched him go. But her relief was short-lived. Kim remained standing there, her gaze now fixed squarely on Jieun. The intensity in her eyes hadn't waned; if anything, it had grown sharper, more personal.

Then, her expression shifted slightly, her sharp edges softening just enough to reveal a flicker of something unreadable. She stepped closer, her movements slow and deliberate, until she was standing just a few feet away. "You fought well yesterday," Daeun said finally, her voice measured. "Better than I expected."

Jieun blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected acknowledgment. "Thanks," she said cautiously, unsure of where this was going.

"But don't let it go to your head," she continued, her tone as sharp as ever. "You may have beaten Kwon, but Zara is a different kind of fighter. She doesn't make mistakes. And if you think you can win by relying on the same tricks you used yesterday, you're going to lose."

Jieun bristled, her pride prickling at the insinuation. "I don't need your advice," she said coolly. "I've made it this far without your help."

Her smile returned, this time tinged with something almost affectionate. "Of course you don't. You're your father's daughter, after all." The mention of her father hit Jieun like a punch to the gut, but she didn't let it show. She held her gaze, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a reaction.

Robby shifted uncomfortably under Daeun's piercing gaze, his posture stiffening. Her eyes, sharp and calculating, moved from his hand entwined with Jieun's to his face, her expression unreadable but undeniably critical.

Finally, with an almost imperceptible tilt of her head, she gestured for him to leave.

Robby hesitated, his fingers tightening around Jieun's as if grounding himself, silently refusing to leave her side. His jaw clenched, the unspoken challenge evident in his expression. "Robby," Jieun murmured, her voice soft but steady. She squeezed his hand gently, then turned her face to his, her eyes offering quiet reassurance. "It's okay."

He looked at her, searching her face for any sign of doubt, but Jieun gave him a small nod, a gesture of both gratitude and insistence. Slowly, reluctantly, he released her hand, standing up and giving Daeun a wary glance as he stepped back. "I'll be close," he said firmly, more to Jieun than to Daeun. Then he turned and walked toward the other side of the lobby, with Miguel and Sam, his figure tense but composed.

The space between them grew quiet, the air thick with unspoken tension. Daeun watched Robby's retreating figure for a moment before shifting her attention back to Jieun. Her arms folded across her chest, her stance both casual and intimidating. "So," Daeun began, her voice deceptively light, "does he know?"

Jieun's brows furrowed. "Know what?"

Daeun's lips curled into a faint, knowing smile. "Does he know that we're family?"

Jieun hesitated, the weight of the question settling over her like a heavy cloak. There was no use lying; Daeun would see right through her. "Yes," she admitted finally, her voice barely above a whisper. "He knows everything."

To her surprise, Daeun's lips curled into a faint smile — not unkind, but pensive, as if she were turning over something weighty in her mind. "Good," she said finally, nodding. "It's better that way. Secrets have a way of eating at you if you let them sit too long."

Jieun blinked, thrown off balance by the unexpected response.

Daeun sighed, her arms loosening as she tilted her head, studying Jieun with a sharpness that felt more like observation than criticism. "I wasn't sure what to expect when I saw you out there," she admitted. "But watching you fight... I saw myself in you. The way you moved, the way you held your ground. You reminded me of when I was your age. Hungry. Fierce. Determined to prove myself to anyone who dared doubt me."

There was no arrogance in her words, just a quiet honesty that carried the weight of experience.

"I'm proud of you," Daeun continued, her voice softening. "You fought like hell out there. But Jieun... I need you to hear me when I say this: don't let anyone, not even someone you care about, pull your focus away from what's in front of you. You're too close to let anything distract you now."

Jieun swallowed hard, her heart tightening at the sincerity in her aunt's voice. "I'm not distracted," she said quietly. "Robby understands that this is important to me. The us, the whole team."

Daeun nodded, her expression thoughtful. "Maybe he does. And maybe he's good for you, Jieun. I don't know him well enough to say. But I do know this — when you care about someone, really care about them, it's easy to lose sight of your own goals because you're too busy worrying about theirs. You start hesitating, making choices that aren't really yours. And you can't afford that, not now." She stepped closer, her voice lowering as she continued. "You remind me of myself, but you're not me. You've got a fire I never quite mastered, and I don't want to see that extinguished because you let someone else dim it, even unintentionally. Keep that fire, Jieun. Keep it burning for you."

Jieun's throat tightened, and she looked away briefly, unsure how to respond.

"I'm not saying you have to push him away," Daeun added gently. "I'm just saying don't lose yourself in the process of holding onto him. The finals are coming, and this is your moment. Make it count."

For a moment, the room was silent except for the faint hum of the hallway beyond the closed door. Jieun looked back at her aunt, seeing something in her eyes that she hadn't noticed before — a kind of quiet yearning, as though Daeun were speaking from her own regrets.

"Thank you," Jieun said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

Daeun's smile returned, softer this time. "Don't thank me yet. Just promise me one thing."

"What's that?"

"Win," Daeun said simply.

Jieun then watched Gunther step into the center of the room, the polished brass buttons on his blazer catching the overhead light. He scanned the crowd with practiced gravitas, his face betraying no emotion as he raised a hand to quiet the room.

"My apologies for summoning you all like this," he began, his deep, accented voice resonating with authority. "But under the circumstances, it was necessary."

Jieun glanced at Daeun, who hadn't moved since delivering her parting words. She stood just to her right, arms crossed, her face unreadable. Yet there was something about the set of her jaw that made Jieun feel as though her aunt already knew what was coming.

Gunther continued, his expression sharpening. "The Sekai Taikai has a long and honorable tradition. We fight hard, and we fight fair. That is why I am saddened to announce that one of the dojos here has tarnished that tradition by cheating."

The lobby fell silent as a stunned wave of disbelief rippled through the crowd. Jieun felt her pulse quicken and instinctively flicked her eyes toward Daeun, catching the slightest flicker of something unreadable in her aunt's expression. Suspicion tugged at her gut. Cobra Kai had a reputation for bending rules, and Daeun had the look to her that wasn't any different.

But if Daeun noticed the accusatory edge in Jieun's side-eye, she gave no indication, her gaze fixed squarely on Gunther.

"Sensei Ivanov," Gunther announced, and gasps scattered across the room like broken glass. The burly Russian man in the corner stiffened, his expression hardening into shock. "Four of your students," Gunther continued, "have tested positive for performance-enhancing drugs." A slow intake of breath hissed through the crowd, a collective reaction to the weight of the accusation.

Ivanov's voice cut through the silence, incredulous. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"You are hereby eliminated," Gunther said evenly, his voice ringing with finality.

"Bullshit!" Ivanov's voice rose in a roar, his heavy frame moving closer to Gunther in measured steps, his anger building with each stride.

Jieun stiffened, the atmosphere in the lobby charged with an almost tangible hostility. Ivanov's students shifted nervously behind their sensei, their expressions oscillating between shame and disbelief.

"Sensei Ivanov," Gunther barked, his tone sharpening like a blade. "Consider yourself fortunate that your dojo wasn't banned forever." He dropped his voice to a chilling calm. "Continue this behavior, and that can be arranged easily."

The Russian sensei froze mid-step, his jaw tightening. For a moment, it looked as though he might strike Gunther. But after a tense beat, he turned sharply, his coat billowing like a storm cloud as he stalked toward the exit. His students followed wordlessly, their gazes fixed firmly on the ground.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Gunther adjusted his lapel, turning back to the assembled crowd. His authoritative tone returned, steady and unshaken. "Replacing Udar Tigra will be the dojo with the next highest point total."

For a moment, everything seemed to slow. The weight of the words hung in the air like a suspended guillotine, and Jieun felt her chest tighten. Her gaze snapped back to Daeun, who had started smirking — a small, knowing smile that sent an icy wave down Jieun's spine.

"Cobra Kai," Gunther declared, his voice slicing through the room like a blade.

The tension in the air shattered. Gasps and murmurs filled the space, the energy shifting to one of discontent and disbelief. Daeun now wore her smirk openly, as though the outcome had been preordained. She turned slowly to face Jieun, her smirk morphing into something more pointed, more personal. She took a step closer, her voice low enough that only Jieun could hear.

"Well," she said, her tone rich with feigned surprise. "It seems fate isn't quite done with us yet, hmm?"

Jieun stared at her, her jaw tightening.

Daeun leaned in slightly, her voice dropping into something almost conspiratorial. "Don't get comfortable," she said, her words curling like smoke. "You might have clawed your way into the finals, but you're not the only one who fights with fire. Let's see if you can handle the heat."

Jieun's fists clenched at her sides, but she said nothing, holding Daeun's gaze with a defiant glare.

Daeun straightened, her expression softening ever so slightly. "Good luck," she added, almost as an afterthought, though her tone carried more challenge than encouragement.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

super short ch. bc this is more filler

next ch is the brawl

WHO ELSE IS FREAKING OUTTTT

i'll start writing it rn but i'll probably publish late tomorrow or around the time this one is published!

i really just wanted to tie up tory and jiji, like i want them to be friends again it was killing me so bad </3

kwon being mean as hell to my girl bc he lost like he wasn't begging her to lock in at the garden is crazy work

but robby was about kick his ass too

and a cuteish moment between her and daeun! don't worry, i already have a ch planned for them to have a deeper talk about everything come pt 3. like from daeun being ostracized to jihyun (jiji dad) murder and jieun's grandma.

much love,